Dominos
by Ciara in cotton socks
Summary: A fun group trip to the woods turns into anything but as an unseen enemy starts picking off the glee club members one by one. As suspicion mounts the kids begin to turn on each other, but who is the real killer? Rated M for language and graphic violence.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is my first Glee fic, so play nice. The first chapter is just a prologue to set the scene, other chapters will be longer.**

**I'd love to hear from readers- ideas, opinions, anything really- so please review. I try to use readers' ideas as much as I can.**

**DISCLAIMER: Come on, if I was Ryan Murphy, why would I be writing **_**fan**_**fiction?**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

_Will Schuester sat in the armchair next to his bed, waiting. Outside, bright sunlight drenched the hospital's carefully tended garden, completely at odds with the situation. Will stood up and yanked the drapes closed angrily. A dull gloom enveloped the small room instantly._

That's more like it_, he thought bitterly. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him and he realised he hadn't slept for several days. He flopped back into the chair and let his weary head drop into his hands. Tears sprang up in his eyes and he blinked them away furiously._

Knock knock_._

_Will looked up to see a woman and man peering around the doorway. The woman looked to be in her mid-thirties. Her brown hair hung in a sleek bob around her thin face and she wore a shin-length olive trench coat. Her companion was short and broad-shouldered with sandy hair and a stubble-dotted jaw. He wore a black leather jacket and a grim expression._

"_William Schuester?" he asked in a low, gravely voice. Will nodded once and the pair entered the room._

"_Mr Schuester, I'm Detective Bell, this is Detective Holland," the woman told him, holding up a police-issue badge to confirm this. She held out a manicured hand and shook Will's firmly. "We'd like to ask you a few questions regarding the incident at Lake Witkeel."_

"_Of course," said Will tiredly. He had been expecting this. He gestured towards the chairs on the other side of the bed. Holland sat and took out a small spiral notebook. Bell remained standing, arms crossed over her chest. "Can you tell me how the kids are doing?"_

"_The doctors wont let us speak with them yet," Holland replied. "They say they're still in shock. Natural, I suppose. One of them is still in surgery, I didn't catch a name."_

_Will nodded again, grateful for even this most miniscule morsel of news. He tried to speak, but a lump obstructed his throat completely. Instead, he picked at the dressing on the back of his hand, momentarily in a world of his own. Detective Bell coughed softly._

"_Mr Schuester," she said in a gentle voice. "Could you tell us, in your own words, what exactly happened between the dates of March 13__th__ and 19__th__ of this year?"_

_Will placed his head in his hands once more and sighed heavily. Despite his best efforts, Detective Bell's words had provided the trigger to bring the nightmare rushing back to the surface of his subconscious. Again._

_Images flashed. Voices screamed. Smells assaulted his nostrils. The chilling warmth of blood beneath his fingernails._

_Will forced himself out of the nightmare and back to reality. He looked the pretty detective directly in the eye with a hardness borne from the events of the last week._

"_Where do I start?"_


	2. Come Together

**A/N: The first proper chapter in the story. I'm hoping people will like it, and that you will let me know by way of review!**

**This chapter is the beginning of the story- the prologue sort of set the scene. Although this chapter is quite slow, I promise the pace will pick up soon. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, but I'm hoping Ryan Murphy will send me Puck for my birthday…..**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"What the hell is goin' on?" Puck demanded grouchily as he slouched into the choir room with Quinn. The blonde former cheerleader made a primly impatient noise and rolled her eyes at him.

"I've already told you, I have no idea," she sighed. "No doubt Rachel's thrown another fit because she's not front and centre in our latest routine."

"Hey!" Rachel exclaimed from her seat, bottom lip extended in a hurt pout. "I've already lodged that complaint with Mr Schuester, and he assured me that he will rectify the situation in the next number by allowing me to take lead vocals and giving me a dance break."

"Oh," said Quinn, cutting her off before the pint-sized primadonna could launch into a detailed description of her ideas for the new number. "Then what are we doing here at this unearthly hour?"

Her fellow glee club members adopted similarly puzzled expressions. Kurt was sitting with Mercedes in the back row of seats. They were both sipping from tall Styrofoam coffee cups and wearing tired expressions. Tina was in conversation with Artie, the pair of them sitting with their heads together as they attempted to decipher what exactly was going on. Next to them Matt and Mike sat in exhausted silence, unable to speak this early in the morning. Rachel was sitting at the piano, looking far too alert for this hour of the morning in a blinding tartan skirt and hideous knitted sweater. She ran her fingers fluidly over the ebony and ivory of the piano keys, brow puckered as she tried to work out what was going on. Finn, in stark contrast, sat with his head leaning against the wall. His snuffling snores filled the choir room until Matt poked him hard in the ribs. His eyelids fluttered open rapidly.

"I- what?" he mumbled wildly as a chorus of titters rang out.

"Need some caffeine Finn?" Santana smirked as she and Brittany entered behind Puck and Quinn. Both girls were dressed in their Cheerios' uniforms and looked immaculate even at this early hour. Their hair was swept back into Sue Sylvester's regulation high ponytails and both wore flawlessly applied makeup. Like Kurt and Mercedes, the two cheerleaders held coffee cups in their manicured hands.

"You can have mine," said Brittany in her soft, dazed voice. "My mom says I shouldn't drink coffee anymore, not since I tried to pogo-stick down the stairs on the broom."

She held the cup out to Finn, who accepted it in dumbfounded silence. Then she took a seat next to Santana and the two bent over Santana's cell phone, gossiping in a whisper. For a moment, the rest of the club just stared at the ditzy cheerleader. Then the spirited debate as to why Mr Schuester had asked them to gather in the choir room before school began in earnest.

"Maybe he's leaving again," Kurt suggested, subsequently earning himself a smack across the head from Mercedes.

"Don't say that!" the coffee-skinned diva exclaimed. "Maybe we've got a new member."

"After the Jesse St. Douche fiasco?" snorted Puck. "I don't _think_ so."

"Perhaps the National Showchoir Committee have finally responded to my weekly letters requesting permission to form a one-woman glee club," Rachel mused, her voice laced with hope.

"Or maybe Mr Schue's realised that in your case the daily slushie facials are doing some good Berry," countered Santana acidly. "They're doing wonders to deflate that ego of yours."

"Or maybe," said a voice from the doorway. "He's got a surprise for you guys."

Mr Schue strolled inside, his face split into a broad grin. He held a stack of papers in his hands and didn't appear to be tired at all.

"Now, you guys have been working really hard this year. I know it was difficult for you all, losing out at Regionals last year like that. But since we came back after the summer you've all been putting in a great effort. I'm really proud of you, and I figured you deserved to be rewarded," he grinned enthusiastically. He began to hand out glossy leaflets and what looked like permission slips. "So we're going on vacation together. A friend of mine owns this amazing lodge up in the mountains, right on Lake Witkeel. It's beautiful this time of year. We can go fishing and picnicking, and I think it'll be a great opportunity for us all to bond as a group, to really connect and-"

"Mr Schue?" Puck interrupted. "If you're gonna keep goin' with this sappy sentimental stuff, can I leave the room? I think I'm gonna be sick."

Mr Schue laughed good-naturedly with the rest of the group and held up his hands in defeat. "OK Puck, I'll give you that one. Any other questions?"

"Yah," said Santana immediately. "Do we _have_ to go?"

"Is there cell phone coverage?" Mercedes demanded.

"What will the weather be like? I cannot rock a parka."

"When are we going? We've got football practice….."

"Does a witch live in that house?"

"Guys, guys, one at a time!" Mr Schue laughed. "Yes Santana, attendance is obligatory. There _is_ cell phone coverage Mercedes, and Kurt, you shouldn't require a parka. It's not the North Pole. We'll be going during spring break Finn, so football wont be affected. And Brittany, why would a witch live there?"

"It looks like this house I saw in a book and the book said a witch lived there and tricked kids into coming in and ate them."

"Brit," said Santana kindly. "That was Hansel and Gretel. It's just a story."

"Oh."

At this point, Rachel got to her feet and flounced over to stand beside Mr Schue. She planted her hands on her hips with vigour and stared at her fellow glee club members fiercely.

"I for one think it's a great idea Mr Schue," she said, throwing him a glowing glance. "It is of vital importance that we come together as a team and have real chemistry which transfers onto the stage. In fact, it's the one thing which will give us the edge over our competitors . Although we all know that I am the star of New Directions, the sun around which you lesser performers orbit, I feel that we should make an effort to add real depth to our performance, thus placing us higher in the judges' estimations than the soulless automatons of Vocal Adrenaline. This trip is the perfect way to do that. I'm in."

"Why do you think I'm not?" muttered Santana. Quinn smirked appreciatively at her former sidekick and a low chorus of laughter filtered through the room. A crestfallen Rachel crossed her arms over the embroidered cat on the front of her navy sweater. Her deep chocolate eyes flashed desperately to Finn's face, imploring him to intervene. For a moment, there was silence, then-

"I'm in too," he sighed, resigned. Rachel beamed at him, an action that was shadowed by Mr Schuester. Though Finn did his best to deny it, he was a natural leader. The other members of the club looked up to him, admired him even. Sure enough, once he had given his approval refusals began to melt away like icicles in summer.

"Fine, me too."

"I guess I can make time."

"Alright, I'll do it."

Mr Schue rubbed his hands together enthusiastically, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"That's the spirit guys," he said cheerfully. "I just know this is going to be the perfect vacation. Now, get into your starting positions for We Are Golden. Kurt, you're up. From the top with energy guys!"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Once glee rehearsal had finished, Will had ten minutes before he was due in class. Buoyed by the group's relatively positive reaction to the trip to Lake Witkeel, he made his way to Emma's office, still humming the infectious chorus to We Are Golden under his breath.

_Knock knock_.

"Come in Jacob," Emma called distractedly from her desk. She looked up. "Oh. It's you Will."

"Am I interrupting? I could come back later….."

"No, no it's fine," said Emma. She looked breathtaking as usual in a neat lilac cardigan and cream shift dress, a set of pearls decorating her throat. "I've got an appointment with Jacob Ben Israel, but it's not for another twenty minutes."

"I'll be quick, I promise," Will smiled. He stepped inside and stood in front of Emma's perfectly arranged desk. A small china vase of baby's breath sat in the top corner, and all her stationary was lined up parallel to each other.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" asked Emma. Will felt his stomach drop at the strictly professional tone she now affected. He missed her. Twisting his hands in his lap, he slid the brochure across the wood of the desk towards her.

"I'm bringing the kids on a trip to Lake Witkeel during spring break," he explained. "The thing is though, I need a female teacher to come with me, for security reasons, you know. I thought maybe you would like to come?"

"Oh Will, I….."

"I get it," said Will, feeling a dull blush creep across his cheeks. "You're probably busy, I just thought I'd ask. But I guess you probably have plans with whatshisname, the dentist, Karl? That's fine, I just thought… it's fine."

"I'd love to come Will," Emma told him in a gentle voice. A soft smile caressed her pretty features. Will immediately felt very stupid.

"Oh. Oh, well that- that's great! Thanks Emma, I appreciate it."

He stood to go with the feeling that this hadn't been nearly as bad as he had expected. His hand was on the door handle when Emma spoke again.

"And for the record, Will, I broke up with Karl last week. I found out that he doesn't approve of wearing latex gloves outside the surgery."

Will didn't respond, careful to play it cool, but secretly his insides were doing the conga. A broad grin crossed his face as he bounded down the corridor to first period Spanish. Ordinarily, it would not be something he was looking forward to; Brittany was in this class, which meant he would be spending at least half the period explaining to her why drawing sombreros in the answer boxes was not sufficient to pass a pop quiz. Today however, he didn't mind in the slightest.

_This is going to be a really great trip_, he thought contentedly as he entered the classroom to a rousing chorus of "Buenos dias Mr Schue."

He would realise later how wrong he was.


	3. The Beginning of the End

**A/N: First thing's first- much love to MK300****, LiveLoveLaughLife, Yum, LittleMissCheese and sparklylulz for their reviews. I love to know people are reading, it gives me a confidence boost to keep posting!**

**Once again, I welcome any ideas/suggestions/predictions you might have. In fact, I relish them. Makeovers may be like crack to Kurt, but reviews are like crack to me!**

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Sadly.**

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Are we feeling excited this morning?" Mr Schue asked the group assembled before him, excitement riddling his voice. "Cos I know I am!"

"Let me get back to you in a few hours," Mike grumbled. "When I can, you know, open my eyes."

"Why do we have to leave so early, Mr Schue?" asked Kurt. "I have a strict dermatological regime which involves eight solid hours of beauty sleep. My pores are going to be huge, so this trip better be worth it."

"Amen," Santana mumbled. Mr Schue smirked and glanced around at the ragtag group, all of whom were in various states of exhaustion. Matt, Puck, Finn and Mike carried sports bags. Artie had a large rucksack perched on his lap. Tina, in full gothic garb even at five thirty in the morning, had a large black overnight bag. Santana and Quinn both had small, expensive-looking suitcases, while Brittany had a My Little Pony case. Rachel held a bright pink bag covered in gold stars. Kurt and Mercedes were both hauling luggage that resembled small trailers rather than suitcases. Every student also held a sleeping bag, and it was strange to see Brittany and Santana in clothes other than their regulation Cheerios uniforms. Will thought it almost looked like there was a part of them missing.

"Mr Schuester?" Rachel piped up. She had already taken various mineral supplements, so Will had been waiting for her to perk up. As usual, she was right on cue. "What are we waiting for?"

"Miss Pillsbury is coming with us," Will explained. A chorus of groans broke out; the kids knew Emma meant well, but none of them particularly wanted a lecture on cleanliness during the two hour trip to Lake Witkeel. Even Rachel, who considered good personal hygiene an admirable trait in any person, didn't have the stomach for an in-depth analysis of spring cleaning before breakfast. Will frowned at his students. "Guys, Miss Pillsbury is doing us a favour here. Play nice."

This last seemed particularly directed at Puck, but the football player didn't have the energy to protest his innocence or even affect a mischievous smirk. He raised his hand in lazy acknowledgement, then went back to leaning his head against the school wall. Santana and Brittany flopped down on the front steps as one and the blonde cheerleader rested her head on the shoulder of her Latina companion. Mercedes thrust an iPod earbud at Kurt and the pair of them began to listen carefully, no doubt plotting a bedazzling performance to topple Rachel from her throne, while Artie and Tina gave in to a PDA which Will pointedly ignored.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Emma's small car whizzed into the car park. The pretty redhead emerged from the vehicle with a stricken expression on her face, hands fluttering anxiously.

"Oh Will, I'm so sorry I'm late!" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "There was an emergency. I had to find a new sitter for Mr Cuddles when Mrs O'Donnell said she thought my request to sterilise his milk was unreasonable and then-"

"Emma, breathe," Will reminded her gently. "Don't sweat it, it's no problem, is it guys?"

He shot the glee kids his best badass look and they chorused their agreement in glum unison. Emma sighed with relief.

"Oh… oh well that- that's good," she said, with an attempt at a smile. "I mean, thanks."

"Well, now that we're all here," Will grinned. "Let's get going. Lake Witkeel won't wait forever! Figgins sanctioned the use of the wheelchair-accessible bus, so load in your belongings and grab a seat."

He threw his own small bag into the luggage compartment and then hoisted Emma' in. He held onto his ukulele in its neat case. Slowly, lethargically, the kids followed suit. Like Will, Puck opted to keep his instrument with him. Will found it endearing that this consummate tough-guy cared so much about his guitar.

One by one, they clambered on board. Finn and Mike stayed back to help Artie manoeuvre his chair into the lift. Up front, a sullen driver chewed gum and wore a bored expression beneath his peaked cap. Will and Emma sat together a couple of rows ahead of the kids. Santana, Mike, Brittany and Matt occupied the back row of seats. Kurt and Mercedes, popular by association due to their recent stints as Cheerios, sat in front of them. Brittany was tugging playfully on Kurt's mint-green chenille hat as the camp fashionista squirmed. In front of McKinley's answer to Trinny and Susannah were Tina and Artie. Across the aisle, Puck and Quinn sat together in awkward silence. A tentative relationship had formed between the two since they had given Beth up for adoption, neither willing to have things move too fast. But Puck had given up sexting other girls, so it was clear that he was finally taking this seriously. Rachel was alone behind them, knees drawn up onto the seat and reading _The New Amsterdam: The Biography of a Broadway Theatre_.

"Is this seat taken?"

Rachel looked up to see the tall form of Finn Hudson hovering beside her, a lopsided smile on his face. She felt a blush begin to heat her face.

"I- no, no of course not! Sit down!"

Finn's smile grew wider and he folded himself into the seat next to Rachel. A moment later, the bus sputtered to life with an almighty jolt. Kurt and Rachel both bounced about a foot in the air, much to Puck's amusement. Rachel blushed again, but the male soprano merely shot him a withering glance and fixed his hair with supreme indifference. Finn smirked appreciatively. Typical Kurt.

"What you reading?" he asked Rachel as the bus puttered along lethargically. The diminutive diva held up the heavy hardback book so that he could see the title. "I've never read it."

"Finn, have you ever read anything?" Rachel smiled knowingly. The tall quarterback shrugged sheepishly.

"I read magazines sometimes… at least, I look at the pictures."

A light sigh fluttered from Rachel's cherubic lips. "Finn Hudson, we need to get you cultured."

The long yellow coach chugged along the road as dawn began to break. Green hedges zipped past on either side as they began to pick up speed, occasionally broken by the shabby paintwork of an old farmhouse or the giant white form of a motor home. Rachel concentrated furiously on her thick book as her fellow students chattered in hushed voices. In front of her, Puck's shaven head lolled against the window and he snored softly. Quinn's small porcelain hand lay intertwined with his. Behind her, she could hear Mike tapping out a beat with his feet and hands as Santana and Matt sang.

"Uh, Rachel?" Mercedes called across the aisle. Unwillingly, Rachel looked up. "Is our boy OK?"

Rachel glanced at Finn and immediately realised what Mercedes was talking about. He was sitting bolt upright with his eyes clenched tightly shut. His knuckles were white as he made fists and an unhealthy green tinge washed over his features.

"Finn," she said gently, prodding his broad forearm. "Finn, what's wrong?"

"Carsick," he grunted and a pitiful moan slipped through his pursed lips.

"Did you take something before we left?" asked Mercedes. He shook his head no. "Alright, I'll go see if Mr Schue has some tablets or somethin'."

As she made her way up the narrow bus aisle, Rachel picked up her handbag and began to rummage in it noisily. She withdrew a pair of ballet pumps, a bottle of perfume, a couple of carob bars, a photo of Barbra Streisand in a gold gilt frame and finally a bottle of golden liquid which she presented to Finn with a flourish.

"Ginger ale," she proclaimed proudly. "I always carry a bottle with me, one of my two gay dads has a weak stomach. Drink small sips, alright?"

Finn nodded shakily and did as he was told.

"Do you want to sit next to the window?" Rachel asked him. "I can open it and you can get some air."

Finn nodded again and Rachel stood up to let him swap seats with her. She bit her lip and watched him anxiously as he breathed heavily through his nose. After a couple of moments, she asked cautiously, "Any better?"

"A bit," said Finn in a weak voice. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "Thanks Rach."

"You should try to get some sleep," she suggested. "I think I have a neck pillow in here somewhere…"

"Rach," Finn interrupted her monologue gently. "I don't need a pillow. I'm fine, really."

"I- oh, well OK then," said Rachel. She felt stupid, not to mention hyper-aware of the fact that her hand had crept out of its own accord to stroke Finn's comfortingly. She immediately made to pull it away, but Finn held firm.

"Do you mind?" he asked in a quiet, shaky voice. Rachel felt her breath catch in her chest.

"Uh… no! No, of course not!" she exclaimed. Her cheeks flamed spectacularly and she got a sudden feeling that this trip was going to be really terrific.

Just then Mercedes, who had been deep in conversation with Will and Emma, let out a startled shout. Every head on the bus turned towards her.

"Turn the radio up!" she called to the bus driver, her tone frantic. He complied with a disgruntled snort and Mercedes motioned to the others to be quiet.

"_The close-knit community of Carmel High School is reeling today after a horrific double blow,"_ the female news reporter was saying. _"News broke yesterday of the death of senior Candace Wallis in a freak accident. Candace, the female lead in the school's multi- award winning showchoir Vocal Adrenaline, was decapitated by a length of wire after entering a photo booth to take photos for a modelling agency."_

"I remember her," said Tina in a hushed voice. "The pretty black girl." She lapsed into silence again as the news reader continued her report.

"_In a new twist to the story, former Carmel High student Jesse St James was discovered in his home this morning. Jesse, who was home for spring break from UCLA, where he is on a full academic scholarship to study musical theatre, was found tied to the wall of his bedroom. He was badly beaten and had the words '__Looks like you really are on the highway to hell' carved into his skin. Toxicology reports have revealed that Jesse was heavily sedated prior to the attack. He has lost a lot of blood, and is currently in a comatose condition in St Saviour's Hospital. Doctors are refusing to comment on the likelihood of his survival. This brutal attack has sparked rumours that the death of Candace Wallis was in fact premeditated, and that a serial killer is at work. While police are denying these rumours completely, they are urging anyone with information about either incident to come forward immediately. In other news, Lima resident Kathleen Lewinski has placed fourth in the National Vegetable Society's National Championship with her prize-winning radishes…"_

The driver turned the radio off and a deathly silence fell over the group. Rachel could feel every eye on the bus locked on her, but she wasn't really concerned about that. All she could think of was Jesse, lying in a hospital bed somewhere close to death, and Candace, the girl who had thrown eggs and taunted her, lying on a slab in the morgue. A cold shiver rippled through her.

"Rach, are you alright?" Finn asked anxiously, squeezing her hand.

"I-I'm fine," she replied, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"Rachel," Will said as he strode down the aisle towards her. "Do you want to go home? Or call your dads? Or Shelby?"

"No thank you," whispered Rachel.

"Are you sure?" the Spanish teacher pressed. "This is pretty big. You and Jesse-"

"Went out for a while, but ended it," Rachel finished firmly. "Mr Schue, I want to go on the trip. I want to stay with my team."

"If you're sure…" Will trailed off uncertainly.

"I am. Honestly," Rachel told him, her tone carefully matter-of-fact. "Why wouldn't I be? It's not like I still care for Jesse."

"OK then," sighed Will. He locked eyes with Finn. "Take good care of her," he told the teenager. Finn nodded and squeezed Rachel's hand again as Will made his way back up to Emma.

"You sure you're OK Rach?" Finn asked her in a gently probing voice.

"Yes Finn, I'm sure. I'm fine. I'm _fine_," she repeated, as though saying this would convince him. Or convince herself. She shrank into Finn's strong, patient arms and continued to repeat the words in her head. Perhaps if she just didn't think about Jesse and what had happened to him and that Candace girl, she could pretend it had never happened at all. Perhaps she could make it alright. After all, she was telling the truth; she _didn't_ care about Jesse, not at all. Try as she did, she couldn't shake the feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach which had nothing to do with travel sickness.

When the bus pulled to a stop after a steep upward climb into the mountains on a rocky, unsteady trail, Rachel bolted from her seat with lightning speed. She breathed in the cold mountain air gratefully as the rest of the group clambered out of the bus. Another shiver ran through her, and she had the curious feeling of being watched. She brushed it off, attributing it to the range of conflicting emotions running through her veins, and hurried to follow the others down the winding dirt track leading to the lodge they would be staying in.

Unbeknownst to Rachel, the first steps of a devious plan had just fallen into place. Candace Wallis was dead. Jesse St James was on the threshold.

It had begun.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**And so it begins. I'd love to hear some early predictions about what's going to happen and who's the killer, so please drop me a line in a review!**** Thanks for reading, and the creepy factor will be taken up a notch soon, I promise!**


	4. Psycho Killer

**A/N: I'm ba-ack! First thing's first, as usual- thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I love knowing that people are reading, it gives me the confidence to keep writing. So on that note, thank you to LiveLoveLaughLife, MK300, AlexandraScrubsGlee, JMHawthorne, Pazzesco and OMG (who gave an amazingly detailed review- love that). You guys are wonderful, keep it up!**

**Also, I forgot to mention the last few chapters that the chapter titles are all songs. This one is 'Psycho Killer' by the Talking Heads.**

**DISCLAIMER: Come on, are you really going to make me say it? Just let me live in denial…**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

The lodge, it turned out, was more like a wooden mansion. It was massive and U-shaped; the boys' bedrooms were down one arm and the girls' down the other. The middle branch was a communal area with a TV and heaps of slouchy, comfortable-looking sofas and armchairs. Outside was a neat rectangular patch of carefully tended lawn. A winding cobbled path lead across this patch of green to another smaller building which Will informed them housed a communal kitchen and dining area. The entire complex had huge glass windows and the living room area had an entire wall of French doors. It was surrounded by a thicket of dense foliage, a curious mixture of deciduous and coniferous greenery. As it was early spring the deciduous trees were just starting to bud, a sign of renewal, of rebirth.

"Dude, this is actually a pretty sweet deal," Puck whispered. A bird chirped in a nearby tree as if in agreement.

"OK guys," Will called. "All the bedrooms have two sets of bunk beds. There's twelve of you, so I think three to a room should be fine. No mixed sexes." His gaze flickered to Santana and then Puck as he said this last.

"Mr Schue," Kurt piped up. "As an honorary girl, I think I'd feel more comfortable rooming with Mercedes."

"Dude, I think we'd _all_ be more comfortable with that," Puck muttered. Finn flushed fire-engine red, remembering the last disastrous time he and Kurt had roomed together. Mr Hummel's words still haunted him sometimes.

"I… uh, yeah I guess that would be OK, Kurt," said Will. "So, who else is rooming together?"

"Dibs on Brittany," Santana said immediately, locking pinkies with the tall blonde.

"Dibs on Santana," echoed Brittany.

"Brit, you don't have to call Santana," Mike explained in a slow, patient voice. "She already said you two would room together."

"Oh."

"Kurt, you're my boy," Mercedes grinned.

"Tina, will you be joining us in our den of fabulosity?" asked Kurt. The gothic girl bobbed her head in eager agreement. Then she caught sight of Rachel standing awkwardly a few feet away. 

"Kurt," she whispered. "Do you think we should…?"

The camp fashionista cast a critical eye over Rachel's pathetic figure, for once not analysing her horrendous fashion choices. His one-time nemesis was clutching her heavy book tight to her chest in a vice-like grip and her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Kurt sighed dramatically.

"Rachel," he said, attempting to expel the disparaging sarcasm he usually used when he uttered her name from his voice. "Would you… like to room with us?"

He forced himself to suppress a shudder. However, when Rachel's face lit up with a hopeful smile he found that he genuinely felt good about being nice to her. Who knew?

"I… I'd love to! Thanks Kurt."

Meanwhile, Santana and Puck were engaged in a furious argument.

"No Puck," the cheerleader hissed venomously. "I am _not_ rooming with _her_, no way."

"Oh come on, San…"

"Don't 'San' me! I only just got rid of her from Cheerios, I don't want her near me."

"San please," Puck begged. "Quinn's been really down since the adoption went through."

"Not my problem."

"Oh, cut the ice queen act Lopez," sighed Puck. "I know you can have a heart when you want to. You were really awesome that time I got stomach flu, you made me soup and everything. And you never even used it as ammo to get me to make out with you."

"Yeah, but I don't want my occasional shred of decency to become common knowledge. My hard-assed bitchiness is what makes people fear me."

"I'll stop purposely confusing Brit on a daily basis."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine," she said sullenly. "But you owe me, Puckerman."

"Sure, sure. Thanks San."

"Oh cut the pathetic sappy crap. You're starting to sound like Finn," she smirked scathingly. Then she adjusted the neckline of her sky blue tank top and put on the fiercest face she could manage, channelling her inner Sue Sylvester. "Hey Quinn," she called across the group. "Brit and I have a spare bed in our room. You want in?"

"I… uh, I guess so," Quinn replied, her tone dripping surprise. "Thanks."

"Yeah whatever," said Santana nonchalantly. Then without another word she strode over and looped her arm into Brittany's. Quinn, elated, threw her arms around Puck. The football player nodded curtly to Santana over her head of soft blonde curls.

With the girls' drama sorted, the boys' room assignments were much more straightforward.

"Dudes, we're rooming together, right?" Puck demanded. Matt and Mike nodded their agreement.

"Artie, I snore. A lot," Finn said sheepishly.

"I brought earplugs just in case."

"Well now that we've got all that sorted out," called Will. "You guys can go claim your rooms and settle in. But we'll meet back in the living area in a half hour to decide what we're going to do first."

He hurried inside and in the direction of the boys' rooms, where he would have his own bedroom at the end of the hall. Taking her lead from him, Emma gingerly picked up her own bag with a gloved hand and teetered off in the wake of Kurt and the girls.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Alright guys, have we got everybody?" Will asked as the group reassembled in the living area. Puck had already claimed one of the sofas. Quinn perched daintily on the edge of the couch. Tina was sitting in an armchair next to Artie. Everybody else was standing.

"Brittany's not here," Matt pointed out from where he stood next to the window, slightly apart from the rest of the group. A chorus of sighs rang out.

"She probably got lost in her bedroom again," said Mike matter-of-factly.

"But it's only got one door," Emma said, perplexed.

"Miss P, she's Brittany. She's turned getting lost into an art form."

Sure enough, the words were barely out of the Asian footballer-turned-dancer's mouth when Brittany wandered into the room. Her hair was rumpled and she wore a dazed expression.

"I got lost."

Mike smiled knowingly at Emma who nodded with newfound understanding.

"Alright guys," said Will. "Now that we're all present and correct, does anyone have any ideas what we can do this afternoon?"

"We could go for a walk," Santana suggested, sounding as though this was the last thing she wanted to do.

"We could toss around a football," offered Finn. Kurt grimaced.

"Much as I enjoyed the brief moment of euphoria I felt when we won our one and only football game last year, this shirt is Marc Jacobs new collection. It does not do dirt."

"Any other ideas?" Emma asked.

"I like Santana's suggestion," said Quinn. She smiled at her one-time sidekick in an attempt to curry favour. "A hike sounds like fun."

"I wouldn't have pegged you for the hiking type Quinn," Will said, surprised.

"I went walking a lot over the summer," she replied. "I had to find a way to get rid of my baby weight."

"Well then, that's settled. We'll kick things off with a hike. The fresh air will wake us all up and there are some really great trails around here. Sound good?"

"I guess so," Mike piped up with a shrug. Matt nodded his agreement.

"Will we have to walk?" asked Brittany. Santana tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and began to whisper, no doubt explaining the meaning of the term 'hike'. Brittany nodded slowly, brow puckered, then glanced at Will. "OK, I'll come."

"We need to keep a close eye on her," Santana added in an undertone. "Brit has a habit of wandering off."

As the rest of the group prepared to set off, grabbing bottles of water and knotting the laces of their sneakers, Artie wheeled over to where Emma was standing. The pristine guidance counsellor looked extremely odd in jeans, trainers and a floral t-shirt, an outfit poles apart from her usual skirt-and-blouse ensembles.

"Miss Pillsbury?" he asked quietly. Emma looked up.

"What is it, Artie?"

"I… uh, I don't think my chair is up to a hike."

"Oh. Oh Artie, of course! I'm so sorry, we didn't think…"

"It's cool Miss P," said Artie, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Tina offered to stay behind with me if that's OK."

"Yes, yes of course!" Emma exclaimed. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, no we're cool. I don't want to put anyone to any trouble. You should go with the others. Tina and I will be fine."

"Alright then. We'll see you later Artie," Emma smiled as she walked over to join the rest of the group. Tina made her way over to stand behind Artie, hands gripping the handles of his chair. Her hair made a sweeping inky curtain around her sallow face as she leaned in to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

"Are you sad you can't go?" she asked quietly.

"Nah. I'm used to it by now."

Tina kissed him again and ruffled his hair affectionately. The rest of the group began to straggle away into the woods.

"Bye guys," said Will. "We'll be back in a couple of hours, and we'll watch a movie or something. See you soon."

"Bye white peoples!" Artie called sadly with a waggle of his fingers. He took one of Tina's hands in his and squeezed it tightly. Without the rest of the group there, the clearing felt colder, emptier. Tina shivered. Within a few minutes the voices of their fellow glee clubbers had faded into nothingness. The pair of them remained in the clearing, silent for once.

"Did you hear that?" Tina asked suddenly. Artie stared at her.

"Hear what?"

Tina jumped again. "That!"

"Tee, I don't hear anything. Are you feeling OK?"

"Yeah, I… I just thought I heard a branch cracking, like someone stepped on it." Tina pulled the sleeves of her black sweater down over her knuckles and shivered again, though it wasn't especially cold out. Artie chuckled and kissed her hand.

"Is it wrong for me to find your paranoia cute?"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Horrified screams filled the room. Gunfire rang out. Blood spattered everywhere. Dead eyes stared blankly without seeing.

Puck snorted.

"Dude, the blood just spurted like fifty feet from that guy!" he sputtered. "How fake can you get?"

The rest of the group shushed him. Matt scoffed some popcorn. The girls' bowls sat in front of them, untouched. Emma let out a tiny squeal every time the on-screen psycho slaughtered another innocent teenager. Rachel had her feet drawn up onto the sofa and was hiding behind a decorative cushion.

"I don't know if _Kill Kill Kill_ was an appropriate choice of movie you guys," Will whispered as Emma flinched again. Mike shushed him impatiently and stuffed some popcorn in his mouth.

"Don't worry Mr Schue, it's almost over," Finn assured him.

"Finn's right," whispered Kurt. "If anyone's scared, just try to focus on all the ridiculous clichés and bad special effects. It's what I do."

The group lapsed into silence once more as the bloodbath continued on the cabin's huge TV screen. The female lead was hiding in her bedroom as the killer's heavy boots pounded down the hallway. The big-chested blonde whimpered as his footsteps drew nearer. Then the movement stopped, and her pretty face split into an expression of intense relief.

The door handle began to turn. The girl scrambled for a baseball bat beneath her bed and inched closer and closer until-

"Boo!" Puck whispered from behind the sofa. Brittany screamed hysterically and Santana threw a pillow at him. Matt smirked appreciatively. On-screen, the door opened to reveal a police officer. In the background, another officer was leading the madman away in cuffs. Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. As the credits began to roll, Will stood up and stretched before flicking on the lights.

"_That_," Quinn whispered shakily. "That. Was-"

"Epic," Matt and Mike chorused.

"Badly written, shot and acted," said Kurt, putting a consoling arm around a trembling Mercedes.

"Disturbing," Rachel whispered. "I can't help feeling jumpy after it."

"Guys, guys," Will grinned. "It's just a movie. Relax."

They nodded, still not completely soothed, and started to stand up.

"Alright guys, get some rest. We've got a big day tomo-"

"Mr Schue," Artie interrupted. "Where's Tina?"

"She went to the bathroom about an hour ago," Brittany piped up from where she was still sitting with her head buried in Santana's shoulder. "You went with her, didn't you San? I remember because I wanted to hold your hand because the girl on the screen looked like you and I wanted to make sure it wasn't."

"Yeah, Tina needed to use the bathroom, and she was too freaked out to go on her own. She said she wasn't feeling well and that she'd catch me up," explained Santana. "I just thought I hadn't noticed her come back in the dark."

"I'll go check the bathroom," Kurt said immediately. "She might be ill, or she could have passed out."

He flashed out of the room and down the hallway in a blur of pale skin and patterned shirt. Within a minute he was back, his face paler than usual.

"She's not there."

The girls took off to check if she was in the bedroom. Mike and Matt ventured outside to see if she had gone to get some air. Will and Finn headed over to the kitchen building, thinking Tina might have gotten hungry and wanted a popcorn refill.

"She's not in her room," Quinn said breathlessly as they met back up in the living room.

"Or in the kitchen."

"She's not outside either."

"Guys, don't panic," said Will in a calm voice. "Tina's fine." He looked pleadingly at Emma for back up.

"Will- I mean, Mr Schuester is right," she said with what she hoped was an assuring smile. "Maybe Tina just wanted a bit of alone time. Has anyone tried calling her?"

There was a flurry of movement as eleven teens withdrew cell phones from their pockets, followed by a chorus of groans.

"No bars."

"No signal."

"I have one! Oh wait… it's gone."

Will could see the tell-tale signs of panic beginning to spread through the group. Matt was staring out the window again, as though hoping to spot Tina in the inky blackness outside. Puck was pacing, his fingers drumming a beat on the pockets of his jeans. Mercedes kept running her hands through her hair. Finn was patting Artie's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but with such force that his arm was turning red.

"Guys, I'm sure Tina's fine. She'll turn up."

"And if she doesn't?" Kurt demanded, his voice an octave higher than usual.

"It's too dark to go looking for her now," said Will firmly.

"Dude, that's fucked up," Puck growled. "We need to find her."

Will didn't even have the heart to scold him for his bad language. "It's too dark to go looking for her now," he repeated over the outbreak of angry mutterings. "Tina probably just wandered off and lost her way. If she hasn't made her way back by the morning, we'll go looking for her at first light. I promise."

"You should get some sleep," Emma piped up with a weak smile. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."

Slowly, languidly, the group ambled off to their bedrooms and changed into their pyjamas. Within ten minutes, the lights were out and silence had fallen. Nobody slept, but nobody could bring themselves to voice the fears they were feeling. Fears for Tina.

Within a couple of hours, sleep claimed each unwilling form in turn. The only sounds were rhythmic breathing and Finn's snuffling snores. Nobody heard the creaking of the floorboards as somebody paced anxiously, or the whistling of the wind through the open bathroom window.

Nobody heard the scream either.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**Review? Please? And I'd still love to hear some predictions…**


	5. If I Die Sudden

**A/N: OK, so I'm updating pretty quickly in preparation for the next few days' absence from cyberspace. My cousin is getting married in England, so I'll be gone from Thursday to Sunday… But I'll be back with an update Monday, scout's honour!**

**The title of this chapter is inspired by 'If I Die Sudden' by John Mellencamp. Hey, if he's good enough for Butch!Kurt, he's good enough for me…**

**In other news, I am once again delighted with the support of my reviewers. Much love goes to Tayler, MK300, LiveLoveLaughLife and sparklylulz for dropping me a line. It's really appreciated!**

**DISCLAIMER: Must you crush my dreams? *mumbles* Fine, I don't own Glee. Happy?**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Morning broke slowly over the mountainside lodge. As soon as the first strains of light filtered through the windows, the group were up and about, searching frantically.

Tina had not returned.

"We need to get out there and look for her," Mercedes said firmly once the teens had begun to assemble in the kitchen building. They were sitting around two large tables which Finn had pushed together, all in various states of anxiety. A subdued silence fell when Mercedes spoke, silence nobody seemed willing to break.

"Breakfast!" Rachel declared, bursting through the swinging kitchen doors with two heavy trays. The entire group looked incredulously at her and she seemed to remember herself. "Sorry. I cook when I'm upset, force of habit."

"It looks great Rach," said Finn with a lopsided half-smile. He stood up to help her and gave her hand a quick comforting squeeze as he took one of the trays. Rachel smiled shyly. The trays were laden with pancakes and jugs of maple syrup. There were bowls of strawberries and blueberries and even a couple of small jugs of melted chocolate. Golden apple juice and freshly-squeezed orange juice filled tall, thin glasses and plates were stacked high with French toast. It all looked heavenly.

Nobody could bring themselves to touch a thing.

"Look, Mr Schue is tryin' to make out like nothin's up," Mercedes said in a low, conspiratorial voice. "But we all know that ain't true."

"'Cedes is right," continued Kurt. "Tina wouldn't just wander off. She never does anything by accident. Not even those unfortunately maudlin clothes."

"Maybe she tripped and hit her head," suggested Santana.

"Whatever the hell is goin' on, we've gotta find her," Puck said fiercely. "She's part of the team."

"Never leave a man behind," muttered Finn, nodding curtly at Puck. The pair had never gotten back to their pre-babygate friendship, instead choosing to maintain a frosty civility.

"What if something bad happened to her?" Rachel whispered, voicing the fear nobody else could. "Like… like…"

"Don't," said Mercedes fiercely. "Don't even say it. She's fine. She's _fine_."

"The only way we're going to know for certain is if we get out there and bring her home," Puck reminded them.

"Schuester won't be happy about this," muttered Santana. Puck smirked.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

_BANG_.

They all jumped guiltily, expecting Will to enter wearing an accusing expression. Instead, the tall thin form of Mike Chang sloped inside.

"Dude, where have you been?" Matt demanded. "We woke up and you weren't there."

"I… uh, I went…"

Mike was pale and unsteady on his feet. Determined to be of some use, Rachel jumped to her feet.

"Come and sit down Mike," she said, as gently as she could manage. "You don't look so good."

It was true; the dancer's skin was devoid of its usual sallow tone and his eyes were red and puffy. Rachel helped him to her seat, but recoiled when their hands brushed against each other.

"Mike, you're freezing!" she exclaimed, springing away from him. "It's like you've been out in the cold all night."

Mike avoided her gaze.

"You haven't, have you?" Santana asked him. He gave a small, sheepish nod.

"Dude, what the hell?" yelled Puck, thumping him in the arm. "Are you a complete fucktard? Horror movie rule number one: don't go off on your own. You get killed."

Silence developed as the implications of this statement crashed over them all. Even Brittany seemed to sense that something was wrong. She looked at Puck with frightened eyes and he realised his mistake at once.

"No! No, I didn't mean… not Tina," he stammered, eternally grateful that Artie had not surfaced from his bedroom yet. He glanced wildly around for help.

"What were you doing all night, man?" Matt asked loudly. Mike kept his gaze downcast. "Mike, talk to me buddy. You're freaking us out."

Mike swallowed. "I was- I was looking for Tina."

Unspoken shock reverberated through the room. Kurt coughed.

"I was trying to sleep," Mike continued. "But I just couldn't. I knew you guys would try to stop me, so I waited until you were all asleep and I snuck out. I looked everywhere, but I- I couldn't find her. I ran around out there for hours but there was no sign of her."

"Dude, are you crazy?" Puck demanded.

"Mike… why would you go looking for Tina on your own?" asked Kurt slowly. He looked the Asian boy up and down carefully.

"I just… I was worried about her."

Kurt seemed unconvinced.

"I like Tina. We get on well together. She- she's a great dancer."

Perhaps sensing the tension in the air, Finn clapped his hands together in a good imitation of Mr Schue. "How about we split into two groups? That way nobody's going off on their own, but we cover twice as much ground."

"Sounds good to me," Santana agreed.

"The guys should split evenly between the groups," Rachel chimed in.

"Finn and I will go together, and so will Matt and Mike," decided Puck. "Santana and Brit are with us. Berry, Kurt and Mercedes will go with the others."

"What about me?" Quinn interjected.

"You're not coming," said Puck.

"Why on earth not? I had a baby a couple of months ago Puck, I'm not an invalid! So why can't I come?"

"Because," Finn said before Puck could put his foot in it again. "Someone has to stay with Artie. He likes you, Quinn."

"Fine," the blonde snapped. "But you lot better keep me updated every half-hour."

"Keep you updated on what?"

"Jesus Christ!" Finn exclaimed as Will entered, Emma hot on his heels.

"Language," Quinn scolded absent-mindedly.

"Updated on _what_ Quinn?" Will demanded. The former cheerleader stared stonily at the floor. "Updated on _what_?"

"Look Mr Schue, we're going to find Tina. You can try to stop us if you like, but I'm pretty sure I can take you," Puck challenged, his jaw jutting out dangerously. "We're bringing her back."

They all stared at Will, waiting for their coach's explosively negative reaction. Instead, he just nodded.

"OK. But we're coming too," he added, gesturing to himself and Emma. Finn and Puck exchanged a glance, then nodded.

"Fine," Puck snapped. "Mr Schue can go with Berry's group. Miss P, you're with us."

"Promise to keep in contact when you can," Rachel told the other group, her gaze lingering longer on Finn and anybody else. They all nodded and got themselves ready to head off. Under the cover of the ruckus, Kurt took Matt by the arm and led him away from the rest of the group.

"Matt, I hate to say this but…"

"Don't," Matt interrupted, holding his hand up. "I know what you're going to say, but don't."

"Matt, you have to consider the idea that Mike… that he…"

"Kurt, he wouldn't. I promise you."

Kurt sighed impatiently and ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "He's your best friend, I understand that. If it was Mercedes… But I mean, why would he go running around in the dark looking for Tina? They're not even close. You have to admit, it's a bit suspicious."

Matt shifted uncomfortably.

"Matt, if you know something…"

"It's nothing. Nothing important anyway. Just trust me, he wouldn't hurt her."

"Tell me what-"

"It's nothing."

"Matt, I swear to God-"

"He's in love with her!" Matt hissed. Kurt's green eyes widened impossibly. "Happy now? Mike's in love with Tina, has been ever since we joined glee. And he told me that in strictest confidence and I never told anyone cos I'm supposed to be his wing man. He's been carrying a torch for her for ages, he worships the ground she walks on. But he won't say anything cos she's with Artie and he doesn't want to upset her. I'm telling you man, Mike would never hurt Tina. He just couldn't."

The coffee-skinned footballer shouldered his backpack and shot Kurt a knowing look. The fashionista slipped his own small cream leather backpack across his shoulderbladed. He nodded sharply to the other boy.

"I believe you," he said softly and they hurried to catch up to the others. Despite what he had said, Kurt could not prevent his gaze from straying to Mike, who walked ahead of him with Rachel. He resolved to keep an eye on him from now on.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Quinn scratched softly on the wood of the bedroom door, not hopeful for a response.

"Artie," she called. "Artie, please come out."

Silence.

"Artie, please."

Silence.

Quinn began to pace back and forth in front of the door. Her ballet flats made little or no noise on the woven rug. The only sound was the slight catch of her breath as she struggled to maintain a calm façade. Her thumb rubbed a pattern into the thin gold band on her index finger, a gift from Shelby Corcoran. The woman who bore such a startling resemblance to Rachel had been so willing to have her involved in Beth's life- the evidence lay in the little girl's name carved into the hilt of the ring. Quinn refused any association but this. Anything else hurt too much.

"Artie," she murmured again. "Come out. Please. We can do something. Anything. You can play me some guitar. We can eat something. We can even watch that Star Trek boxset you brought with you, and you can point out the physics mistakes to me. Please Artie. I'm starting to get frightened out her on my own."

That did it. There was a squeal as the bolt was drawn back and Artie emerged, propelling himself along glumly.

"Hey," Quinn murmured.

"Hey."

"So… what do you want to do?"

"What I want is to be out there looking for Tina."

His words were a cold slap in the face as he wheeled by Quinn towards the living area. For a moment she was frozen, unable to bring herself to move. Then she forced herself to remember that Artie was scared, that he felt impeded by the prison of his chair. She strode quietly along in his wake.

The bespectacled boy was pushing his chair along with surprising speed, up and down by the glass doors. His head was bowed and Quinn knew he didn't want her to see him cry. He still wore yesterday's orange-and-green argyle sweater vest. She figured he could smell Tina's musky lilac-and-vanilla aroma embedded in its wool. Cautiously, she crept towards him, afraid he'd fly off the handle again.

"I'm sorry," he muttered tonelessly.

"What on earth for?"

"This. Being a jerk. I just- it's hard, you know? My girlfriend is lost out there, probably scared to death, and I'm stuck in here in this stupid chair. I can't do anything to help her. I'm too weak. Damaged goods." A sigh fluttered through his lips. "It just really sucks."

Quinn put a gentle hand on his shoulder, taking it as a good sign when he didn't throw her off.

"You love her," she reminded him patiently. "That's enough."

A tiny smile flitted across Artie's face. "Thanks Quinn." He laughed bitterly. "You know, I used to be completely terrified of you."

"Funny what a cheerleading uniform will do for you," she replied ruefully, stroking the slight curve of her post=pregnancy stomach. She plastered on a glowing smile. "So, how about we watch some TV?"

She crossed the room and picked up the remote control. She pointed it at the screen but nothing happened. She tried again. The screen remained resolutely blank. A frown puckered her smooth brow slightly as she pushed the power button on the TV. Nothing.

"Huh," she murmured. "I guess the power's gone. I'll get Puck to take a look at the fuses when they come back. In the meantime…"

She scanned the large room with keen eyes, eventually coming to land on a shelf full of old, dusty board games.

"Scrabble?"

The two of them settled in to play a tense, half-hearted game of scrabble. Even in his dazed, anxious state Artie ran rings around Quinn. In spite of herself, the longer they were left alone in the lodge the only words Quinn could think of were horror movie titles. _Halloween. Nightmare on Elm Street. The Shining. _She shivered.

"Did you hear that?" she said suddenly as Artie laid out the tiles for a triple-word score. He shot her a questioning glance. "There it is again! It sounded like… like a door opening."

"Tina?" Artie said, hardly daring to hope. Quinn leapt gracefully to her feet and skimmed down the girls' corridor towards the source of the noise. She thought it had come from the bathroom.

"Tina?" she called, her voice quivering no matter how hard she tried to control it. "Tina, is that you?"

Her hand gripped the doorknob and she twisted it before she could change her mind and chicken out. The bathroom blind clattered constantly against the open window. The white tiles glared wickedly at her. Her head spun and she stumbled over the threshold. The linen basket tumbled to the ground with a clatter.

"Quinn, is it her?" Artie called. His voice made her flinch. "Is it Tina?"

Quinn stared at the white bathroom tiles in a trance-like state. She swallowed against the hard lump obstructing her throat and turned away.

"No," she replied. "No, it was just the wind."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Matt's group arrived back first, minus Tina of course. It must have rained at some point, unbeknownst to Quinn and Artie, for Rachel and Mercedes' hair was plastered to their heads. Emma was clad in a plastic rain poncho and looked distraught, no doubt due to the dirt which was so rampant in the forest.

"Matt," Quinn demanded immediately. "Where are Mike and Kurt?"

"We lost track of them about an hour ago," he replied. "Don't worry. They both have torches, and we left a trail for them."

"And Tina?" Artie asked shakily.

"We didn't find her sweetie," Mercedes said kindly.

"But we will," added Rachel. Quinn had never heard her sound so fierce, not even when Mr Schue had given the Tonight solo to Tina. It made bile rise in her throat. Eyes rooted to the floor, she made her way over to Matt.

"Have you heard from the others?" she enquired, indicating that he should walk with her. "From Puck?"

Matt shook his head. "Sorry Quinn. It's impossible to get signal up here." He gave her a brief hug and Quinn was reminded of how much she really liked Matt Rutherford. They had been friends ever since the third grade, when Dave Karofsky snapped the head off her Barbie doll and Matt retaliated by pushing him into the little kids' sandbox. Matt was quiet, even subdued at times, but he was one of the sweetest guys she knew, and he trusted Quinn unquestioningly.

"Matt," she said quietly, twisting to face him. "If I told you to keep everybody out of the girls' bathroom, what would you say?"

"I'd ask you if you were up to showing me why."

Quinn nodded and blinked back tears furiously. Matt followed silently as she made her way to the bathroom and pushed the door open. It swung and banged against the wall.

"_Fuck_," Matt swore, recoiling. He tried to shield Quinn's eyes, an action which was absolutely futile. She had already seen.

Tina was propped up against the bathtub. She was barefoot, her skin icy and stiff as stone. One foot was bloody, as though it had been caught in some sort of trap. Her silky black hair was a tangle, held away from her face by a blood-red rose on a hair band. She was shrouded in her usual black garb, but the chiffon sleeves of her shirt were pushed back. They revealed matching wounds, ugly and clinical. There was one gash on each arm, dark with congealed blood. Her open eyes stared unseeingly, her face twisted in terror.

"She killed herself?" Matt managed to choke out in a strangled whisper. Quinn shook her magnificent blonde head, unable to utter a single syllable. She pointed with a trembling finger to the tiled wall behind Tina. There, tacked up with masking tape, was a note scrawled in leaking blue fountain pen. It read:

_I always knew being Goth was bad for your health._

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**Oh dear. Sorry Tina lovers. Review? Please?**


	6. Toy Soldiers

**A/N: So, I'm home from England and in possession of a computer once more! And somehow the weather cleared up just before my cousin's wedding and it was a perfect day. Congratulations to Lisa and Rich, the tallest couple in history!**

**In other news, I am once again astounded by the sheer awesomeness of my loyal reviewers. You guys make my day when you drop me a line, so keep up the good work! This chapter credit goes to LittleMissCheese, sparklylulz, LiveLoveLaughLife, MK300, Tayler, OMG (once again, I ADORED the long review), Agronymous and Bella1992.**

**The chapter title comes from **_**Toy Soldiers**_** by Eminem.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Glee, I would be busy writing scripts involving lots of Matt and Mike actually speaking instead of creating this warped story… *sighs***

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Much to Quinn's relief, Puck's group arrived back intact about a half hour after the others. Overcome by emotion, the former cheerleader bolted across the room into his waiting arms. Puck gave a surprised grunt but wrapped her up unquestioningly in a fierce embrace. Quinn leaned into his muscular chest and coughed out a muffled sob.

"Baby?" he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Baby, what's wrong?"

"It… I… Tina…"

"What?"

"Dude," Matt said in a subdued voice. "Tina's dead."

"Fuck," Puck swore. His grip on Quinn intensified. "What? Who? How?"

Matt gave a bleak shrug of his broad shoulders. "I dunno man… Quinn found her in the bathroom. Her- her wrists were slit."

Puck gave a low whistle. "She killed herself?" he asked incredulously. Matt nodded at the same time as Quinn shook her head.

"Quinn," the dark-skinned footballer murmured, his voice smooth as silk and painfully imploring. "Quinn, the note…"

He held up the ugly, dark thing gingerly between thumb and forefinger. The cruel words danced accusingly in the still air between them.

"She didn't write that!" Quinn said. Her voice was rising hysterically. "Matt, Tina would never do that to herself. To us. To Artie. She couldn't!"

"It is a bit hard to believe," Puck murmured. He stroked Quinn's perfect blonde curls, finding solace in the familiar rose petal scent of her shampoo. "I know Tina was into the whole Princess of Darkness thing, what with all those freaky clothes and the batshit crazy makeup… but that was it. She wasn't into all that self-harming shit. She _wasn't_. The girl was… she was pretty freakin' happy, wasn't she?"

An uneasy silence fell. The three of them knew Puck's words were true. Of all the glee kids, Tina was one of the brightest souls. She was gentle and sweet and the most loyal friend any of them could possibly imagine. No matter what anybody did, Tina was always willing to see the good in them. Even just after babygate, when the rest of the group pretty much hated their guts, she always had a shy smile or a compassionate nod for Puck and Quinn when she passed them in the hallway of William McKinley High. She hated confrontation, hated violence of any kind, physical or verbal. That was why she never argued when Rachel demanded the rights to a solo she herself yearned for; she was too kind-hearted. And then there was Artie… They could all see it. When Tina was around him, it was like her own private sun was glowing inside her. He moved, she moved. She revelled in his company. That infectious smile of hers rarely left her face when he was around. She was happy.

So happy that there was no way any of them could imagine her ending her life like this.

So happy that there was no way she _could_ end her life.

So happy that there was no way she _would_ end her life.

"If Tina didn't kill herself…" Matt said slowly. He raised his head to look at the other two, his fearful expression mimicking theirs. "Who did?"

"It's got to be one of us," whispered Quinn. "One of the glee club."

As one, they glanced around the room at the others. It seemed that the rest of the group had picked up on the maudlin vibes hanging heavy in the air, that some invisible force had allowed them to gain realisation of what had happened. Even Brittany, normally so childlike and naïve, seemed to understand. She was sitting next to Santana on the sofa, silvery tears slipping down her creamy porcelain cheeks. The dark-haired cheerleader embraced her tightly and stroked her fair ponytail with a curiously blank expression. Her smoothly beautiful face betrayed no trace of emotion. Puck nudged Matt.

"No!" Quinn hissed furiously. "I know what you're thinking, but no. Neither of them could do this. Brit's too dumb. She can't even tie her own shoelaces for Christ's sake!"

It was a mark of how serious the situation was that Quinn Fabray had used the Lord's name in vain. Matt shifted uneasily.

"OK," he said slowly. "Maybe not Brit, but Santana…"

"Dude, you don't really think…"

"Puck, I know you don't want it to be her. Hell, I don't either. Santana was the first girl I ever kissed. I'd really prefer it if she wasn't a psycho killer, but think about it. Tina went missing right after Santana brought her to the bathroom last night. And we all know she's got a dark side."

Puck shivered unconsciously. "I hate to say it, but…"

Angrily, Quinn pulled away from his embrace. She had fallen out with Santana after falling for Puck, but she still thought of the other girl as her friend. She had grown up with Santana. The Lopezs and the Fabrays were close friends. The two girls had been through all of life's milestones together. To think that Santana was capable of… _Wait._

She whirled around to face Matt and Puck wearing a defiant expression. Arms akimbo, she narrowed her eyes dangerously at the two boys. They looked at her like she was mad.

"Santana couldn't have done this," she said quietly. The others opened their mouths to interrupt, but her icy glare was so fierce that they shut their mouths rapidly. "She couldn't."

She turned her gaze on Puck. "Did Santana leave the group at any point today?" she asked him, a challenge in her voice.

"Well, no…"

"Then she didn't do it. Tina's body definitely wasn't there before you guys left, everybody used the bathroom before you set off. Somebody dumped her while you were gone."

"OK," Matt said evenly. "So Santana didn't do it. At least, not on her own."

Once more, three pairs of eyes scanned the room. Artie was ramming his chair against the wall like he had at Sectionals, but with so much force that the room shook.

"No chance," Quinn whispered.

Rachel and Finn were whispering quietly in the corner.

"I don't think even Berry wants a solo bad enough to kill off the competition," said Puck. "And Finn did go on ahead a couple of times, but he's too dumb to pull off something like this. The dude's like the male version of Brittany."

Mercedes was pacing again, frantically running a trembling hand through her weave. Her fingers flew over cell phone keys as she attempted to make contact with her best friend to no avail.

"They were tight," Matt said, an air of finality in his rich calm voice. "She's too much of a sweetheart." His gaze lingered on the chocolate-skinned diva an instant longer than the others' did. Then he moved on to land on the two teachers. Will was seated in the armchair, his face pale. A vein throbbed in his neck.

"The guy's dealt with a lot of crap this past year," Puck said fairly. "Maybe…"

"Oh come on, you've got to be joking!" exclaimed Matt. "Don't you remember _To Sir, With Love_? Mr Schue _is_ glee club. He'd never hurt any of us." He allowed his gaze to flicker to the doe-eyed redhead standing behind their curly-haired coach.

"Now who's jokin'?" Puck snapped. "You can't be serious. Miss P has a heart attack if you get a speck of dust on her desk. She'd never be able to butcher Tina. Would she?"

They all watched Emma carefully for a moment, but then the idea passed. It was perfectly ridiculous. The pretty guidance counsellor was about as capable of cold-blooded murder as a My Little Pony. Their faces relaxed momentarily before they glanced at each other cautiously.

"So," said Matt, feigning nonchalance. "Back to square one, huh?"

Puck bobbed his head in agreement. Quinn, however, crossed to the window and stared into the dim light outside. She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself fearfully. Outside, the rain which had been falling earlier had intensified. She had never before understood the expression 'rain falling in sheets'. Now, however, its meaning was plainly clear. The rain was indeed falling in sheets, drumming against the window panes and turning the sky a nasty shade of grey. The dirt track leading to the house was muddy and slick with rain.

"You OK Quinn?" Puck asked gently, snaking his arms around her thin waist.

"Wha- oh, yeah I'm fine," she replied shakily, feeling anything but. She had that feeling her grandmother sometimes talked about, the feeling that she was being watched. Like eyes trained on her, raising hairs on the back of her neck.

"You sure babe?" he pressed gently. He dipped his head to place a light kiss on her exposed neck.

"Don't."

"Quinn, are you sure you're OK?" Puck asked again. "You're acting weird. Actually, you have been for a while now. Since… since Beth." He tripped slightly over the name.

"I don't want to talk about that, not now," said Quinn in a tight voice. She shot him a hurt look from beneath her lashes. "Tina is… and we don't know… just not now, Puck."

"Quinn, you never want to talk about it," Puck pressed. "You're really worryin' me, babe. All those medical dramas on TV say you're not supposed to bottle it up-"

"I said-"

"and this was a big trauma and-"

"I said leave it, Puck!" Quinn shrieked, slapping his hands away. "I don't want to talk about it! I don't want to talk about the fact that I gave up the life that was growing inside me for nine months, and I don't want to talk about the fact that a girl I used to taunt on a daily basis is lying dead in the bathroom down the hall and I don't want to talk about our relationship and I don't- I don't…"

She broke off, overcome by tears that blurred her vision and streaked down her cheeks. She gave Puck one last, blazing look of pain and whipped out the door in a streak of peaches-and-cream skin and pale blue button-down blouse. He tried to follow, but the girl had already disappeared into the maelstrom.

"Dude," Matt said quietly from behind him. "When we were running through the suspects, we forgot about…"

He trailed off as a scream pierced the air. It was a high-pitched scream, one that many people would attribute to a female owner. But the two boys standing in the rain, sopping wet and with eyes wild with panic, knew otherwise.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Kurt Hummel was not happy. He had already tripped over a tree root and stained the knees of his new Marc Jacobs capri pants. In addition, Mike had reverted to his usual silent persona and had not uttered a word since they got separated from the rest of the group. And to top it all off, it was raining.

"Great," he muttered, pushing his sopping fringe out of his face. "_That_ was a waste of a deep conditioning treatment."

He picked his way gingerly along the muddy trail in Mike's wake. The tall dancer had no qualms about the weather and was walking with a quick pace. His shoulders were hunched over, and Kurt was sure he recognised something in his posture. It was the gait of unrequited love, a shape he had adopted himself when he realised that all hope of convincing Finn of his true feelings. He felt a pang of guilt for ever suspecting that Mike was involved in Tina's disappearance and quickened his pace to catch up to him.

"Hey Mike," he said cheerfully, turning the thin beam of his torch on the taller boy. "Are you alright?"

"I guess," Mike mumbled. He didn't meet Kurt's eyes.

"Worried about Tina?" the fashionable boy ventured. Mike nodded. "I'm sure she's fine. Tina's a clever girl, she would never do anything stupid and get herself hurt."

A dark shadow passed over Mike's face.

"I guess," he said again. He shifted uncomfortably. "I need to tie my shoelace. You go ahead, I'll catch you up."

Kurt had a bad feeling about this, but he supposed Mike wanted to be alone. He had seen some dark emotion in the other boy's eyes and figured he didn't want any witnesses as he succumbed to tears, the ultimate weakness for a teenage boy. So he shrugged his shoulders in his Gucci trench coat and continued to walk. Mike was a good athlete, he could catch him up.

Nervously, Kurt began to hum the faint strains of _Defying Gravity_. He wasn't a big fan of the dark, and dusk was beginning to fall. He shivered and clutched the torch tighter in his numb fingers.

Behind him, a twig cracked. Kurt gulped.

"Mike?" he whispered. "Mike, stop fooling around."

Another twig snapped. Kurt sped up, past caring about the mud splattering his trousers.

A low chuckle echoed behind him. Kurt stiffened and made to turn, but then the wind whistled as someone hefted a heavy object. Something sharp hit him between the shoulderblades. He managed to choke out a scream before the world tipped sideways.

And then everything was black.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

A stitch pulled at Quinn's side and she was forced to stop running. Panting with exertion, she wiped fiercely at the tear tracks on her face and bent double.

Once she had recovered, she stood up and attempted to get her bearings. She had run through the undergrowth blindly and now had come to a halt on a small path of gravel leading around the edge of Lake Witkeel itself. The bad weather tossed the waters into dangerous, choppy waves. Quinn shivered.

She shouldn't have run off like that. Puck would be so worried. Frantic, she scrambled for her cell phone, but she found no signal. She shivered again.

The trees behind her rustled.

Quinn felt her muscles tense. She backed away from the foliage.

Another rustle.

She searched blindly for something to defend herself with. The best she could do was a sharp rock. She clutched it tightly in her palm.

Another rustle, and then a figure emerged. Quinn opened her mouth to scream, but as the figure stumbled towards her she recognised him with relief.

"Mike," she breathed heavily. "Jeez, don't do that. You scared me."

Mike didn't say a thing. He just continued to walk towards her, his expression as blank as Santana's had been back at the lodge.

As his eyes locked on Quinn, she realised he had blood on his hands.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**A cliffie of sorts (I apologise!)… Please forgive me and review! I value all ideas/suggestions/predictions…**


	7. Cry Little Sister

**A/N: Alright, I'm back relatively quickly with a new chapter, cos I felt bad leaving everyone hanging. Hope it doesn't disappoint! Oh, and you might want to stop eating anything before you read this chapter… Just an idea.**

**As always, the response has been simply wonderful. Reviews make my day, so thank you so much to Bella1992, Don'tTellMeICan't, LittleMissCheese, OMG, Pazzesco, LiveLoveLaughLife and spazzmanaray. I love long reviews, so special thanks (as always) to OMG, and also to spazzmanaray. But any length of review makes me happy!**

**Title? **_**Cry Little Sister**_** from the movie The Lost Boys. Dark, gothic, foreboding… need I say more?**

**DISCLAIMER: Yeah, yeah, I know, I don't own Glee. I wish I did though…**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Quinn took a faltering step backwards. Her feet, cold in their thin ballet pumps, caught painfully on a rock protruding on the lake's edge, but all she could concentrate on was keeping away from the still-advancing form of Mike Chang. Her breath caught in her throat as he extended one hand and reached towards her.

This was madness. Quinn had known Mike Chang since her first day of junior high and he had never been anything other than sweet to her. She had rode with him to the hospital when he got his butt kicked by a bunch of out-of-town thugs at a football game and he had held her hair when she threw up at a house party because some bitchy older Cheerio decided it would be funny to spike her drink. They were friends, close friends.

But now Mike was advancing on her with those lifeless eyes, with bright red blood gleaming on his hands. Quinn held the rock up high and squeezed her eyes shut. Puck's image filled her mind, gloriously perfect and gloriously _hers_. He looked frantic, scared, and he opened his mouth in a silent plea to her to run. Quinn realised that Beth had his eyes.

_I'm sorry_, she thought wildly and opened her eyes with newfound determination.

"Mike," she called, tripping slightly over his name. "Mike, don't do this."

The slender boy limped towards her. He looked terrifying, paler than usual and dressed in a high-collared, oversized cream coat. A smudge of blood smeared his lower lip. Quinn sidled slightly sideways.

"Why, Mike?" She wished she didn't sound quite so petrified. In fact, she wished, not for the first time, that she was like Rachel Berry, always able to plaster on a brave façade no matter how much fear rippled beneath the surface. She had to try now to be like Rachel, the girl she had once hated so venomously. It was her only chance. "Why are you doing this? Attacking people? Killing _Tina_?"

Mike raised his deadened gaze to meet hers. She saw pain in those almond-shaped eyes, pain and something close to bewilderment. He opened his mouth to speak, but broke off with a sudden agonised gasp. His entire face twisted and he glanced down surreptitiously. Quinn followed his line of sight, careful to keep a tight hold on the jagged rock cutting into her palm, and felt a gasp of her own tug itself from her lips.

How could she not have noticed before? Blinded by fear, she had not seen how his coat, so unlike anything he would usually wear, hung clumsily from his frame as though somebody else had shoved it onto him. She had not seen the egg-sized bruise on his temple. She had missed it, missed everything, missed the dark stain that was now spreading steadily across his abdomen. Her stomach lurched.

Slowly, dream-like, Mike unbuttoned the coat with fumbling, frightened fingers. He looked shakily at what lay beneath and raised his terrified gaze to meet Quinn's. The former cheerleader bent over and vomited into the scrub on the lake's edge.

He had been gutted.

_Gutted_.

Like a fish.

His entire chest had been carved open and amidst the sickening masses of blood and bone were the gaping wounds where Quinn was pretty sure his internal organs should have been. She had no idea how he had managed to stay on his feet so long.

So much blood, so much emptiness… and she hadn't noticed! Mike was, quite literally, falling apart before her eyes and she had been so paralysed by idiotic fear for her own life that she had thought _he_ was the killer. He had reached out to her for help, and she was afraid of him. Of her friend. Her friend who was _dying_. Her throat burned with a sudden surge of bile.

"Oh Mike!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side. "Mike, I'm so sorry! I… I…"

"_Quinn_."

Oh God, his voice was so weak. Barely a rattle.

"Mike, it's OK," Quinn soothed as he toppled to the ground. She tried so hard not to wince at the wet sloppy noise this new contact made. It could not be good. "It's OK, we're going to get you to the hospital, you'll be-"

"_Quinn_."

His voice was fainter now, yet somehow more persistent. His movements were sluggish, like he was underwater, but so purposeful. His eyes swam with suppressed tears. Quinn held him tight; he was trembling from head to foot.

_Going into shock_, Quinn thought faintly, remembering some first-aid course the Cheerios had attended because Coach Sylvester considered it important that they could treat each other's injuries in case of attack from some rival cheer squad.

"I swear," she said in a wavering voice that threatened to break at any moment. "I swear, it'll all be-"

"_Quinn_."

Mike uttered her name for the third time, this time with complete desperation. His eyes widened impossibly, bugging out as he stared over Quinn's head at something she couldn't see.

"Don't, Mike," she cooed. "Everything's-"

"Hello Quinn."

She froze and then whirled around at the sound of the new voice. An unspeakable terror gripped her. A figure emerged from the trees, shrouded from head to foot in black. It glided forward effortlessly, clinically, its face obscured by the long hood it wore. All she could see was its mouth, stretched into a sardonic smirk that chilled her to the bone. She clambered frantically through the dirt, shielding Mike's still form.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" the figure asked with a wry chuckle. She realised that its voice was distorted, technologically synthesised. She couldn't tell if it was a female voice or a male one, young or old. "I thought as much. Always so high and mighty, weren't you? No matter. We can fix that."

Panic fluttered through her and her eyes flew unwillingly to Mike's mangled innards. The figure chuckled coldly again.

"No, no, no. Mike was fun to do, nice and messy. But there won't be any mess with you, Quinn Fabray. I've got something special planned. Something that will suit you perfectly.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Kurt blinked once. Twice. Three times.

His vision settled. Brown on brown. Dirt. Water.

_Rain_.

He remembered.

Frantically, he bolted upright, ignoring the dull ache in his temples. It was still raining as heavily as ever. The water pounded in his ears and he felt so, so cold. His shoulder blades burned with blinding pain and every part of him hurt. He attributed that to the way he had fallen, sprawled awkwardly on the dirt track.

His green eyes flitted from tree to tree, looking for the perpetrator. Everywhere he looked was empty. The only sign that life even existed here was betrayed by the jewel-bright eyes of some small rodent in the depths of the undergrowth, and the soft hooting of a long-eared owl in the trees overhead. Kurt was alone. He began to shake.

_Get to safety_, a small voice in his head told him. _Get out of the woods_.

His breathing ragged, he reached out for the flashlight which had rolled a couple of feet away when he was jumped. The red metal glinted slightly in the dim half-light. Grateful for the light source, Kurt flicked the power switch.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Nothing.

No light. No safety.

_No hope_, he thought bleakly. Then he shook himself. _Don't think like that. Just get back to the house_.

Shaking like a leaf, he got unsteadily to his feet. He wiped the dirt from his face and fumbled in his pocket for the small oval locket that had belonged to his mother, which he carried like a talisman. His palms were sweaty.

As the sky overhead darkened, Kurt began to jog along the dirt trail, uncertain of the direction he should be moving in. Silence enveloped the forest. Once, he thought he heard somebody cry out. But when he listened again, it was gone.

_Just __an animal_, he thought, and kept walking.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Let me go!" Quinn cried, flailing in the cloaked figure's grasp. It tugged viciously on her ponytail and tightened the restraints on her wrists until the ropes drew blood. Tears began to spill over despite her best efforts.

"Shut up," the figure sneered, tugging her further down the lake's edge.

"Please!" the blonde girl moaned. "Please, don't hurt me. I won't tell anyone you were here, I swear. Please."

"In time, they'll all know I'm here," shrugged the figure. "Admittedly, they won't know for very long. They'll be like Mike and Tina. Like you. Dead."

"No!" Quinn shrieked desperately. She could barely breathe, panic crushing her from all sides as efficiently as any medieval torture equipment. "No, no you can't! I have a baby. Her name's Beth. She needs me!"

The figure smacked her hard across the face. Her cheek ached.

"I know you have a daughter Quinn. But I know you gave her up, you didn't want her. She most certainly does _not_ need you. Nobody does. You're poisonous, Quinn. All you've ever done is use people. Use them and abuse them. The Cheerios. Puck. Finn. And you hurt so many people."

"No, I-"

"Didn't you bully them?" the figure continued in a deadly hiss. "Didn't you go out of your way to make their life a misery? Think Quinn. Who did you deliberately torture, day after day? _Who_?"

Rachel Berry's face flickered hazily in Quinn's mind. But this could not be Rachel; Quinn wasn't sure how tall this person was, but they were definitely taller than Rachel, who was a tiny five foot two. So who?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, and now her voice was flat with defeat. The figure tightened its grip once more.

"To fix things."

And suddenly they were moving faster and the nightmare figure's breathing hitched with excitement. She was shunted along, unable to prevent the movement or even figure out where they were going. She clenched the rock in her fist and attempted to stab at her captor. It's synthesised laugh was cold ad taunting.

"Tut tut," it said in a sing-song voice. "Don't be silly Quinn. I may not look strong, but I can overpower you with one hand tied behind my back."

It flicked the rock easily from her grip and laughed again. Quinn dug her heels into the dirt, but her efforts were futile. Presently, they drew to an abrupt halt.

"We're he-ere!"

Quinn was certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. They seemed to have progressed a couple of hundred yards along the lake; when she twisted around she could just see Mike lying sprawled in the dirt, his eyes wide and unseeing. She gulped. And the strangest thing, the eeriest, was that standing before them was, well…

A bathtub.

It was an old-fashioned one, large with brass feet like claws. The pale porcelain shimmered ominously in the pale moonlight.

"I… I don't…" Quinn's voice trembled, shook and died as the figure pulled her forward.

"You know, they say you can drown in a bathtub if you're weak enough," murmured the figure. "And if someone's holding you down."

Roughly, Quinn's head was forced over the rim of the tub. Her eyes widened as she saw the liquid which filled it. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it was blood. But as her face was pushed closer, she could feel the coldness radiating from it. Realisation hit her like a steel freight train.

Slushie.

"You spent so long slushying people yourself," her captor mused. "I thought I could return the favour. Bye bye, Queen Bee."

It was worth one last shot. "Puck!" Quinn screamed through her tears. "_Puck_!"

"I don't think your boyfriend can hear you," the figure whispered callously, right in her ear. "No matter. I expect you'll be seeing him soon enough anyway."

And without further warning, Quinn was forced into the needle-like pain of slushie. This was not a slushie facial, it was a thousand times worse. She fought and fought, but it did no good. The hand on the nape of her neck held firm. The more she struggled, the weaker she felt. Her movements became more sluggish than even Mike's had been and her eyelids began to droop as the freezing liquid filled her lungs.

Finally, she closed them. And they didn't open again.

The figure pulled the body from the bathtub and tossed what had once been Quinn Fabray carelessly to the ground. She fell like a ragdoll, her lips a nightmare shade of blue. Her killer removed a pair of black leather gloves and shoved them into an inside pocket on their robe. A smile decorated the hooded face as the robed figure swept from the clearing and into the darkness beyond.

When another figure entered the clearing minutes later, clad not in a robe but a ruined Gucci trench coat and Marc Jacobs capri pants, it was too late to save both the blonde girl and the sallow-skinned dancer.

All that Kurt could do was scream. Scream and run.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Where the hell is she?" Puck hissed, joining Mercedes in her frantic pacing. He glared at Matt as though daring him not to answer.

"Dude, she just needs some time," said his friend in a carefully controlled voice. Puck growled and smashed his fist into the wall. Rachel and Finn exchanged frantic glances.

"Do something!" Rachel hissed to the lanky quarterback. Wide-eyed, Finn shook his head like a bobble-head.

"No!" he mouthed. "Puck'll put my head through that wall."

Rachel frowned for a moment and then jumped to her feet. "Fine," she whispered. "Then I will."

She flounced over to Puck's shaking form and put a small hand on his muscular arm. The big footballer flinched, but he didn't bat her away. Rachel tossed Finn a defiant smile over her shoulder.

BANG.

Emma screamed. Finn jumped about a foot in the air. Matt tensed, poised to attack.

Mercedes, on the other hand, gave a squeal and rushed towards the now-open door. A ghostly figure toppled over the threshold and into her waiting embrace.

Kurt.

They could all tell in an instant that something was terribly wrong. Kurt was paler even than usual and he was sobbing uncontrollably as Mercedes stroked his hair. It was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and his carefully-chosen designer clothes were spoiled beyond repair.

The scariest thing was that he didn't even seem to care.

"Baby boy," Mercedes coaxed softly. "Kurt, what happened?"

The sobs intensified.

"Kurt?" Will asked. It was the first time he had managed to speak properly since he found out about Tina. "Kurt, you can tell us."

"M-Mike and Qu- Quinn, they… Oh God they're… They're dead!"

A beat passed in silence. Then all hell broke loose. Emma screamed again. Finn fell heavily into his seat. Rachel cried out as though she'd been shot.

Puck growled like a wild animal and pushed Kurt up against the nearest available wall.

"What did you do to her?" he snarled, punching the smaller boy square in the nose. "What the _fuck_ did you do to my Quinn?"

Another punch. Another expletive. Another accusation. They rained down like gunshots until Matt and Will pulled themselves from their trance and peeled Puck away. Wild with grief, he scratched and kicked at them.

"He did it!" he screamed, a vein popping in his neck. "He killed her! He was missing when Tina turned up dead, and now Mike and Qu-quinn are gone too. He did it! This fucking _fag-_"

"Shut up." Finn's voice was ice as he went to stand in front of Kurt, shielding him from Puck's attack.

"He did it, he-"

"Shut. Up," Finn said again, his voice level. "Kurt didn't do this. I know it. He is-he is my _brother_. And you will not threaten him again."

With that, he turned his back on Puck and began to help Mercedes to tend to Kurt's bloody pulp of a face. Puck wheeled around to look at Rachel.

"Berry," he said weakly. "Berry, he did it. You believe me, don't you?"

"I believe, Noah," she replied softly. "That you are grieving, and you are looking for someone to blame. Now I know the evidence is stacked against Kurt, that we have nobody else to blame, but-"

"Hold on," Emma interrupted. She too was deathly pale, the result of this latest shock. "Something's not right. Who's missing?"

"Santana and Brit," whispered Matt hoarsely.

"And Artie," Mercedes added. "Where's Artie?"

In the spot where Artie's wheelchair had stood was a piece of paper. She bent and picked it up, reading aloud to the others:

_I have to find this bastard. Sorry._

The words crashed around them all. In the ruckus which had ensued with Kurt's return, Artie had slipped away into the night. Rachel, her face awash with panic, rushed down the hall calling for Brittany and Santana, Finn right behind her. A dazed Kurt followed, propped up by Mercedes. Emma, determined to do her duty as a chaperone, brought up the rear.

They found the ditzy blonde in the bedroom the two cheerleaders had shared with Quinn. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, sipping from a bottle of cheap beer. A half-empty six-pack sat on the floor beside her.

"Brittany," Rachel said, using the sort of voice one used when talking to a small child. "What are you doing?"

"Santana was sad," the other girl said in a child-like whisper. "She said something bad was happening and she wanted to forget. She said she brought some beer with her, that it would be like a party."

"Alcohol was banned for this trip," Emma said. Finn glanced pityingly at her and Kurt snorted.

"Since when has Santana paid attention to rules?" he retorted. He returned his attention to the blonde cheerleader looking up at them all. "Go on Brit."

"We had a couple of drinks. I think something bad happened, because San was crying and she wouldn't let me cuddle her like I usually do when she's upset. And then she said she needed some air. But she didn't come back."

The others exchanged horrified glances, the full consequences of Brittany's words hitting them. Now Santana and Artie were out there alone in the dark. Could one of them be involved? Or would one of them be the next victim?

"Guys," Matt panted, falling into the room. "Bad news. Puck- he's gone. He overpowered us, Mr Schue got knocked out. And Puck ran away, shouting something about getting the bastard who's doing this."

Rachel began to sob softly, unable to hold in the suppressed emotion any longer. A tentative Finn wrapped his long arms around her tiny frame. The others looked bleakly at each other, their shock beyond actions. A horrified silence fell until Brittany spoke again.

"This is bad, isn't it? Even worse than that time I put my kitty in the washing machine?"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**For once, Brittany's right. And I'm so sorry, Quinn and Mike lovers :(**

**Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter, because I'm not so sure about it… **


	8. Girl, you have no faith in Medicine

**A/N: OK, I am officially a very, very mean author. I meant to update earlier, but I just haven't had the time. I know that's a lame excuse, but please just accept my apology…**

**Secondly, this chapter is a huge change of direction. I apologise if you don't enjoy it, but it's setting up future chapters, I promise! There is method in my madness (I hope)!**

**As usual, I am overwhelmed by the support of my wonderful reviewers. It really cheers me up to see the little notice in my inbox, so thank you to: VoiceInMyHead, twilightersk8r, TheUltimateGleek123, Bella 1992, misery-businessx, LonelyLittleLand, JMHawthorne, Olivia94, LiveLoveLaughLife, Tayler, LittleMissCheese, OMG and Lucy-Gleek.**

**Chapter title? **_**Girl, You Have no Faith in Medicine **_**by the White Stripes.**

**DISCLAIMER: I'm not Ryan Murphy. No Glee for me, except on my TV…**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

St Saviour's Hospital was situated on a sprawling estate in the middle of Carmel. It was a huge white building, ultra-modern in design with lots of chrome and glass. The looming, imposing structure seemed built to put patients and visitors alike ill-at-ease, to make them over-think and fear the worst. The carefully manicured lawn was planted at intervals with drooping weeping willows and cherry blossom trees which were just beginning to show delicate pink buds. The flowerbeds were immaculately kept; in fact, the neat parallel lines and right angles reflected the regimented nature of hospital life. The hospital itself was owned not by the state but by an order of nuns, and a couple of aproned novices were strolling through the grounds towards their chapel as lazy sunlight washed over the complex.

Shelby Corcoran had been visiting the hospital every day for the past three days, and today was no different. She pulled her neat blue Prius into one of the vacant parking spaces in the lot at the back of the building and climbed out. A brief glance at her cell phone told her that Beth was sleeping contentedly at her sitter's. That was something, at least. Shelby pushed her oversized shades up onto her head, waved to one of the nurses she recognised from her now-frequent visits and strode through the swishing pneumatic double doors.

The hideous hospital scent invaded her nostrils immediately, the nightmare combination of disinfectant, stale urine and old people. The smell of death. Shelby's own mother had passed away in this very hospital, and she had been ill at ease here ever since. She took a deep steadying breath and began to walk down the cold white corridor, literally quaking in her chocolate-brown ankle boots. She hated this part.

Eventually, after taking two flights of stairs because the elevator was on the fritz, Shelby arrived outside room 315. Her fist was around the door handle when she heard the hushed murmuring of whispered conversation from within. She pulled away as though she had been burned, springing back to lean against the sterile, white wall.

Less than a minute later, the door opened from the inside and two doctors bustled out in navy scrubs, wearing puzzled expressions. Shelby recognised the taller of the two, a good-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair and a chiselled jawline dotted with designer stubble, as Dr Burke. Like her, he had been here every day this week, monitoring the situation.

"Ms Corcoran," he said when he saw her, no trace of surprise in his gravelly voice.

"Doctor, how is he?" asked Shelby frantically. She glanced between the two physicians in an attempt to decipher any hint of bad news. Both maintained strict poker faces. "Tell me!"

Dr Burke sighed with resignation. "His heart rate seems to be increasing and decreasing sporadically. However, at this time we cannot discern what effect, if any, this will have on any potential recovery."

Shelby nodded; a typical doctor's answer. "Can I still see him?"

"Of course. You know the rules though; nothing strenuous, call for a nurse if anything changes."

She nodded again. "Thank you."

The other doctor held the door open for her and she brushed carefully past him into the small private room. As usual, the single step which took her over the threshold caused her stomach to lurch sickeningly.

Jess St James lay in the railed hospital cot, completely oblivious to her presence. Her former star had been well and truly dulled by the brutal attack in his own home. His entire face was a mottled collection of bruises and a nasty welt had been stitched shut above his left eye. His hands lay outside the thin blue coverlet. One was encased in an electric blue plaster cast, while the other was riddled with wires that hooked him up to a dozen different machines which beeped incessantly. On this hand, she could see the deep, ugly marking that showed where he had been tied up. The thing that frightened Shelby the most was that what little undamaged, unbroken skin she could see was as pale as the white gown that swamped Jesse's thin body.

He had been like this for three days, unmoving and unresponsive. Shelby got the call a couple of hours after he had been admitted. Jesse's parents were travelling and couldn't make it home because of some ridiculous air traffic controllers' strike. They needed her to act as his temporary guardian until they could reschedule some meetings.

"_Jesse's always been fond of you. He looks up to you,"_ his mother had said. She was right of course, and Shelby could hear genuine emotion in her voice. But it was too little too late, and she couldn't help feeling a surge of anger towards Jesse's parents. They were never there for him, not even now as he lay half-dead in a hospital bed. They were too busy with their own careers, their travel plans and their fancy holidays, to have time to spare for their only son. In fat, as his showchoir coach, Shelby figured she had probably spent more time with Jesse since his freshman year than Mr and Mrs St James.

Shelby pulled out the chair beside his bed and sat down. Uncertain as to what she should do with her hands, she fidgeted anxiously with the thin gold band on her left wrist. The bracelet had three gold stars dangling from it, each emblazoned with a name: Beth, Rachel, Jesse. Cheesy and clichéd as it was, she couldn't help it. She _did _think of Jesse as her surrogate son.

"Oh Jess," she sighed heavily, leaning over the bed and taking his hand in hers. She knew every inch of his face by now, had every bruise and contusion committed to memory. It killed her to see him like this. They were so close. In all honesty, Shelby thought Jesse St James was a lot like her. He could put on the best showface of them all, cocky, self-confident and full of swagger, but behind it all he was just a lonely, insecure kid who'd had his heart broken. Despite the horrific egg-throwing incident, Shelby knew Jesse had loved Rachel deeply. She hadn't seen him so much since she quit VA and he went off to UCLA, but she was willing to bet he still held a torch for the daughter who so resembled her.

That was the problem. Jesse was an artist, a performer, and so he felt things so much stronger than regular people. And as a result, his reactions were so much more passionate…

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"_You did _what_?" Shelby's voice was acid. She glared balefully at the boy slumped over the bar._

"_I egged her," Jesse replied miserably. He shook his head of soft curls and glanced once more at the screen of the cell phone sitting next to his face. "I _egged_ her."_

_He picked up his glass of gin again and was about to drain it when Shelby snatched it out of his hand and smacked him upside the head._

"_Ow!" he yelped. "I thought teachers couldn't hit kids anymore. Capital punishment is a felony, you know."_

"_Tonight, I'm not your teacher. I'm your substitute mom. How the hell did you get served in here anyway?" snapped Shelby, casting the trashy barmaid an ugly glance. "Oh, I get it. Mystery solved."_

"_Shelby, stop shouting," Jesse whine, head in hands. "You're making me feel all naus… naus... you're making my tummy feel all fuzzy."_

_She wanted to scold him and reprimand him, but honestly the kid looked so pathetic she figured he'd suffered enough. His gaze was unfocused and his speech slightly slurred, his normally perfect curls rumpled, and his face was a mask of misery. Instead of yelling at him, Shelby gave his shoulders a quick squeeze like she always did before a performance and hauled him to his feet._

"_Let's go superstar," she murmured softly. Jesse shrugged off her offer of help with a shadow of his usual proud smile and began to stagger in the direction of the door. He careered dangerously from side to side and wobbled dangerously. Shelby barely managed to catch him before he smashed through a glass display case._

"_Hey Shelby," Jesse whispered conspiratorially. "Guess what?"_

"_What?" Shelby asked, humouring him._

"_I'm drunk!"_

_Jesse's breath hitched in childish, pathetic giggles which only barely hid sobs. The scent of cheap beer on his breath made Shelby recoil slightly, but she tried to focus on the soft curls and features of the boy who had become her protégée. She drew his arm across her shoulderblades and planted her own hand at his waist, taking most of his weight with a slight grunt. She was thankful that a combination of dancing and gymnastics had given her hard, strong arm muscles. She nudged the lolling figure and they limped forward awkwardly, like competitors in some bizarre three-legged race._

_When they reached the car, Shelby folded Jesse's form into the small Prius and leaned across the gearstick to fasten his seatbelt. Jesse gave a small moan as she clipped the belt into place and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window._

"_Shelby," he said in a tiny voice. "Do you hate me?"_

"_What?" Shelby exclaimed._

"_Do you hate me? Cos you know, I egged Rachel and she's your… your daughter. And, you know, if I was you, I would hate… me. Wait, that didn't make sense, did it? My head hurts."_

_Shelby smiled softly and ruffled his curls. She was glad he'd had the good sense to call her from the bar. God knows what he would have gotten himself into otherwise. "I don't hate you Jess."_

_Jesse opened one eye hopefully. "You don't? That… that's good. Cos I think you're a great coach Shelby, way better than that McKinley guy who looks like me. And Rachel hates me and you look like her and it would suck if you both hated me."_

_Shelby put the keys in the ignition and pulled away from the dingy little bar. "Rachel doesn't hate you Jesse."_

_She glanced at him to gauge his reaction, but her star performer was snoring softly in the passenger's seat. She smiled again and quickly turned down the sounds of _Take Me Or Leave Me_ from RENT blasting from the radio. The journey passed with only Jesse's snuffling snores to fill the silence._

"_Jesse," Shelby said softly when she pulled up, shaking him gently. "Jess come on, wake up."_

_Jesse glanced around sleepily and looked out the window. He turned to Shelby, a shaking hand pressed to his right temple and bewilderment on his face._

"_Maybe it's the fact that I just drank my bodyweight in alcohol," he said slowly, his pronunciation still nearly perfect despite his current inebriation. "But I'm pretty sure this isn't my house."_

"_Hit the nail on the head there, champ," teased Shelby with a silvery laugh that sounded more than a little forced. "Your mom and dad are away, right? And your uncle told me in no uncertain terms in our meeting last week that he wasn't interested. Well, I couldn't leave you home alone. What would I do if you choked on your own vomit? I'd have no male lead. Come on kiddo, you need to sleep this off."_

_Ten minutes later, Jesse was settled in a nest of blankets on Shelby's gargantuan corner sofa. She had placed a basin next to him and her coffee table now held a glass of water, two aspirins and a half-empty cup of black coffee. Affectionately, she tucked the duvet up under the dozing boy's chin. It was a typically girly one, pink with gold stars, but judging by the state he was in Jesse wouldn't notice until morning. Even at that, he would probably be too hungover to care._

"_Shelby?"_

_She turned, surprised. She was sure he was asleep but he was sitting propped up by pillows with a grimace on his face. Afraid he was about to throw up, she moved closer to him. "Yeah?"_

"_Couldn't you get fired for this?"_

_Shelby winked in an attempt to wipe the anxiety from his face. "What Principal Keller doesn't know won't hurt her. But if you keep this drinking crap up, I may have to punish you by incorporating the running man into our next routine."_

"_Shelby?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Thanks. You're awesome."_

_Shelby smiled and turned to leave again. A wave of fatigue washed over her and her temples pulsed. Long night._

"_Shelby?"_

"_Yeah?" she replied again, half-amused, half-exasperated._

"_I love her."_

_Shelby whipped around to see Jesse sitting bolt upright and looking very much like a puppy who had been kicked in the stomach. Repeatedly. His shoulders slumped and his lip quivered._

_Shelby rushed to him, perched gingerly on the edge of the sofa and pushed him back down firmly. She swept his curls out of his clammy face and gave the sobbing boy a comforting squeeze._

"_I know you do Jess," she murmured as his eyelids began to droop. "But you need to let the dust settle. Get some sleep superstar."_

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Shelby jolted out of the memory almost painfully. Tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them back forcefully. Determined to stay positive, she began to rummage in her oversized patent leather handbag.

"OK superstar," she said brightly. "Today, we've got a couple of videos from your VA performances from freshman year. And I brought your copy of _War and Peace_. I figured maybe I could read it to you since you're always moaning about how you can't finish it. Oh, and I've got that old-fashioned cloudy lemonade you like, had to drive to Dayton to get it. And there are a couple of triple chocolate cookies in here too, somewhere. I figured you could maybe use some comfort food when you wake up…"

_Oh, who am I kidding?_ She thought bitterly. _He can't hear me. He can't hear anyone. Hell, he's only barely managing to breath without a machine._

It hurt to see Jesse like this. It hurt _bad_. He was Jesse St James, for crying out loud! He was the kid who performed at Sectionals with two broken toes, who had to be forcibly removed from Vocal Adrenaline practice after passing out twice due to a severe bout of flu, who could sit through an entire Wiggles concert with Rachel without committing murder. How could he be lying here, so frail and fragile?

It sucked. It sucked _royally_.

Worse than that, it was just plain cruel. Some bastard had come into his home and tortured him until he had practically given up the ghost. The police told her the paramedics had to resuscitate him twice on the journey to the hospital because he had lost so much blood from those ghastly marks on his arms where the sicko started carving. He was beaten to a bloody pulp and they had no idea who had done it. But the kicker, the thing that made Shelby's blood boil, was that he had been drugged. The pathetic little coward had given him no chance to defend himself, none at all. And Jesse had always despised drugs in any form. It was even hard to get him to take painkillers when he dislocated his shoulder hoisting Candace into the air…

Candace. Candace, who was dead and had absolutely no way of telling anyone who had killed her. Shelby knew the police were claiming that the girl's death was a freak accident, but she didn't believe it for a second. The logistics jus didn't fit. Candy was a beautiful girl, and so talented. Admittedly, she could be a bit hard and she had been nothing short of demonic in instigating the attack on Rachel, but whatever she had been she had not deserved to die. And now she was lying in the morgue having autopsies and rape tests and all sorts done to her, and she could never tell them who had done these unspeakable things. Only Jesse knew the answer now, and he wasn't telling.

"Wake up Jesse," Shelby snapped suddenly, not for the first time. "Wake the hell up. You hear me St James? That's an order!"

Once more tears sprang up in her eyes and she stalked over to the window. Typical Shelby Corcoran, unwilling to show emotion even to a comatose teen. She dabbed furiously at the salty tears with a silk hankie from her breast pocket and stared with fixed determination out into the grounds below. A scrub-clad nurse wheeled a frail elderly man in a wheelchair down a narrow path. A bird chirped above her. She concentrated on the glistening berries in the window box outside and tried with all her might to prevent the tears from spilling over.

There was a noise behind her, so slight she could have imagined it. But then she heard it again, the unmistakable noise of bed sheets rustling.

Shelby whipped around as quick as lightning and promptly dropped her handbag with a small scream.

Jesse was incredibly, miraculously, amazingly moving. He was clearly agitated, his knees drawn up as he twisted in panic. He was clawing at his arms with blind wildness, pulling at the wires and ripping them from his skin.

"Jesse!" Shelby exclaimed, rushing to him and jamming her finger down on the call button on the headboard. "Jess, Jess it's OK. It's OK, you're safe."

His struggles continued. His beautiful blue eyes flickered and rolled in their sockets as he bucked and fought. Shelby realised he was reliving the attack.

"Jesse," she said again, catching his hands and holding them tight. "Jesse, it's over. It's me, Shelby. You're in hospital. It's over."

Slowly, his breathing rate evened out and his chest stopped heaving. Tears glistened in his eyes as he raised his gaze to look at Shelby. With a shaking hand he removed the oxygen mask strapped to his mouth.

"Rachel."

Oh God, his voice was just a croak. He was so hoarse and his breath was a rattle.

"Jesse, it's me," Shelby reminded him. She brushed a strand of hair from the boy's face and then stroked his cheek gently. "It's Shelby."

"Rachel," he said again. He was confused, concussed, and Shelby knew that she did look uncannily like her daughter.

"No, Shelby," she corrected. "Oh Jess, you had me so-"

"Rachel," persisted Jesse. Each word seemed to cause him a ripple of pain, but that did not deter him. He tried to sit up, but the monitors began to beep frantically and he cowered, covering his ears. Terrified.

Shelby began to whisper in the same soothing tone she used to lull Beth to sleep when she was in distress. She allowed Jesse to clutch her hand, even though his grip was so tight it hurt. Wildly, she glanced at the door. Where the hell was the nurse?

"It's alright Jesse," she cooed. "Everything's fine, I promise. You're safe."

The words were meant to comfort, to coax him into relaxation. However, they seemed to have the opposite effect. Jesse tightened his already forceful grip on her hand and attempted clumsily to pull her close to him.

"Safe," he wheezed painfully, his voice distant and dazed. "Safe… Rachel… not safe… Glee… not safe…"

"Jesse, what are you talking about?" asked Shelby gently. "Rachel's fine, she's on a school trip."

"Tell… her… not safe… Please…"

He looked about ready to cry, so Shelby decided to humour him. "Alright superstar," she murmured, withdrawing her cell phone and dialling Rachel's number. "I'll call her, OK?"

There was a moment of silence as Shelby listened to the dial tone and Jesse watched her with desperation.

"That's weird," Shelby said eventually, hanging up. "Rachel always answer's her phone. But we would have heard if anything was wrong Jess, you're just confused. You had a huge ordeal, you're not thinking straight-"

"Shelby," interrupted Jesse, showing that he had in fact recognised her and was thinking perfectly straight. "Rachel… danger… all of them… said… kill…"

The word struck Shelby like a slap in the face. Her blood ran cold and gooseflesh rose on her bare arms. "What do you mean, Jesse?" she whispered hoarsely. The handsome boy pulled her to within an inch of his face, and she could read the fear there. Tears began to spill down his face.

"_Glee's not safe_," he hissed frantically. "_Glee's not safe… _killed Candy… all… die… told me… before… before…"

And for an awful moment he was lost to the nightmare once more. Ordinarily, Shelby would want to hold him tight and take care of him. But now, from what he was saying, Rachel was in danger. _Her_ Rachel, the daughter who looked like her, who sang like her, who she had abandoned once. She couldn't do it again.

"Jesse," she said firmly, shaking him into reality again. "Are you telling me that the person who hurt you killed Candace?"

A sob. A nod.

"And they- they have some sort of plan? Involving Ra- involving New Directions?"

Another nod. "_Glee's not safe_."

"Jesse, are they going to kill them?"

Another nod. Another sob, louder this time, sucking all the breath from his frail frame.

"We have to call the police, we-"

"No… no time… no police…"

"Jesse," Shelby said, attempting to keep her tone level and calm while inside she couldn't stop screaming. "Jess, this is important. _Who is doing this_?"

Jesse St James opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. His showface was a far-distant memory as his handsome features were twisted with horror.

"Who is it Jesse?"

But this was too much for the former Vocal Adrenaline star. He had once been unbreakable, immortal, but now this _asshole_ had shattered him. It was too much for him. He was unable to utter the name of the monster who was doing these unspeakable acts.

Shelby fished a pen and an old programme from when she had gone to see _Spring Awakening _on Broadway. Hastily, she handed them to the twitching Jesse. She gave him a knowing look to let him know that she believed him. Jesse was shaking badly and he dropped the pen twice, staining the blue coverlet, before he managed to start writing.

"You… you'll help?" he asked Shelby fearfully. "You'll help Rachel? And- and the others?"

Shelby nodded. "I will."

He thrust the programme at her just as Dr Burke and a cluster of interns rushed into the room. The doctor brushed Shelby aside with a brusque "You need to leave Ms Corcoran" and she fumbled to hold onto the page.

"No!" Jesse screamed from the bed, his blue eyes blazing with burning ice. "Shelby- you have to hurry… said… already… started… too late."

His words were jumbled, incoherent, but his meaning was startlingly clear. Whoever this was, they had already started their spree. God only knew how many kids were already hurt as badly as Jesse, or worse. Rachel…

"Shelby!" Jesse screamed again, brushing off the intern attempting to sedate him. "You… tell her… I'm sorry. Tell her… I tried… tried to fight… to protect her… Tell her…"

"Get out Ms Corcoran!"

"Tell Rachel… Please… tell her I'm sorry!"

"I will," Shelby promised as, before her eyes, Jesse went limp and flopped down onto his pillow. Knocked out. She rushed out of the room, tears flying freely now, and took the stairs three at a time. The second she got into her car she unfolded the programme and read the name Jesse had scrawled there. If she was surprised, it didn't show on her face. She took a moment to visualise the little psycho and reached under her seat for the aluminium baseball bat she kept there in case of an attempted carjacking.

She put the car in drive and set the GPS for Lake Witkeel.

The only thing that kept her from imagining the worst, from imagining Rachel ending up like Candace and having a closed casket and being… _not there_ for her to call, not there for her to watch on stage and feel a little tug on her heart, was the image of that metal bat crushing that twisted little sicko's skull.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**Hope you liked this chapter… Please drop me a line to let me know what you thought! I adore Jesse, so I wanted him to have some redemption after the whole throwing-eggs-at-Rachel thing. You like?**


	9. Better in Time

**A/N: Hi everyone, I'm back with the latest instalment of this warped, freaky story! First off, I just wanted to thank everyone for their positive responses to the last chapter. I know it was a change of pace, but this chapter we're back with New Directions. Also, I'm glad people other than me like Jesse!**

**Thanks as always to everyone who has taken the time to review since my last update. For the record, that's: JMHawthorne, SawyersNumberOneFan, Bella1992, Olivia94, LiveLoveLaughLife, Don'tTellMeICan't and LittleMissCheese. Cheers guys!**

**The title for this chapter is **_**Better in Time**_** by Leona Lewis.**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned Glee, Matt and Mike would have solos. And speak more than once in a blue moon. Enough said.**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"We're all going to die," Kurt said matter-of-factly. None of the others even bothered to argue with him. An ugly cloud of despair had fallen over them all. Their numbers had fallen so dramatically now that Puck, Artie and Santana were all wandering around outside. Kurt was lying on the sofa with his head in Mercedes' lap. It had taken the combined efforts of Rachel, Mercedes and a dazed Brittany to coax him into changing out of his ruined clothes and now he was wearing dark skinny jeans and a checked shirt. He shivered slightly and Finn immediately pulled his basketball sweater over his head and draped it over the smaller boy. It swamped him, of course, but the thought was sweet. He seemed to be taking the 'brother' thing to heart, even without Puck here to beat the crap out of Kurt. Mercedes nodded to the gangly teen and resumed her stroking of Kurt's dishevelled hair.

Finn sloped back over to Rachel, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She hadn't spoken in almost ten minutes, which was seriously freaking him out because usually Rachel couldn't shut up if you paid her. He plopped down next to her and realised that the miniscule diva was humming softly under her breath. He recognised the tune as _For Good_ from Wicked, the duet she and Kurt had been working on for Regionals. An unexpected smile caressed Finn's face. He loved how Rachel could still stay true to herself, even with some crazy psycho running around murdering people. He put his hand on hers and squeezed gently. She smiled from beneath sooty lashes but didn't stop humming.

Matt sat next to Brittany. He was holding his head in his hands and jiggling his foot to the beat of Rachel's humming. He knew it was selfish, that the others were hurting too, but all he could think of was Mike. The pair of them had been best friends since they were in diapers and he just couldn't get that he was _gone_. Mike was the one who hauled him home when he got wasted after seeing Santana making out with Brittany after Cheerios practice. He mixed his drinks too, so he threw up _everywhere_, but Mike didn't mind, He stayed with him all night and the next morning he rooted out every unflattering photo of Santana he could find, pasted them onto baseballs and brought him down to the batting cage. Even when Matt started sniffling, because he _seriously_ thought he loved Santana, Mike didn't leave his side. Because they were best friends. Thick as thieves. Joined at the hip.

But now there was just him and he didn't know what to do. Mike was the smart one, the creative one. He was the one who taught Matt to dance, to live and breathe for music like he did. Without Mike, it felt like he'd been ripped in two, like a piece of him was missing. He had no clue how to function.

_Sniff._

Matt looked up. Brittany was clutching a tiny mint-green teddy bear and tears were slipping down her face. Immediately, Matt felt guilty for being absorbed in his own emotions.

"You OK Brit?" he asked, though it was blatantly obvious she wasn't. "Worried about Santana?"

Brittany bobbed her head. "She's dead, isn't she?"

"What? I, oh- no, no I'm sure she's fine!"

"I'm not stupid," Brittany said in a low voice. "I mean, I know you all think I am, and most of the time it's true. I forget my middle name and one time I kicked Puck in the face cos I thought he was trying to hit on me when he said he wanted to walk me home, but it was really because the last time I walked home alone I almost walked under a bus. But I can tell when something's wrong. Tina ran away and then Mike and Quinn ran off too. They all died. And now Santana's gone too…"

She squeezed the teddy bear in her palm.

"Did San give you that?" guessed Matt.

"Yeah," Brittany smiled. "We went to the carnival and I really wanted it, but I just couldn't understand how to play hook-a-duck. So Santana, she- she-"

"I get it," said Matt gently, withdrawing a leather wallet from his back pocket. It was black with an embroidered Eiffel Tower on the front. "I've always wanted to see France, and the Eiffel Tower. So when Mike went on vacation there last year with his folks, he took his laptop with him and Skyped me the whole way up the tower. He even flipped the computer screen around so I could see too and it was kinda like I was there with him."

"Oh," Brittany said simply. She dropped her head onto Matt's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Come _on_, guys!"

The entire group looked up in surprised unison to see Will standing with his hands planted on his hips and wearing a defiant expression. His eyes flitted from face to face in a silent dare. The kids all exchanged confused glances and even Emma was looking at Will as though he had lost it. Will gave an exasperated sigh and ran his hands through his hair.

"I get that you're upset guys, I do. Believe me, I'm grieving as much as the rest of you, and I'm just as worried about Santana and Artie and Puck. But that's exactly why I can't stand it that we're all just sitting around moping! We need to get out of this… this…"

"Funk?" Kurt supplied with a hint of a smile, remembering the funk performance they had done last year to freak out Vocal Adrenaline.

"Well, yeah, Kurt. We need to get out of this funk and get out there. We need to find them and bring them home safely."

"Mr Schuester is right," Emma piped up. She smiled shyly at Will, a flush creeping across her cheeks. "The longer Artie and Puck and Santana are out there, the more danger they're in."

"But they could be anywhere by now!" Finn exploded. "They've been missing for hours, they could be half way across the mountain."

"You're right Finn," agreed Will. He grimaced. "And I know we decided previously that splitting up wouldn't be the best idea but… I think it's the only shot we have at finding them."

The kids were unconvinced, particularly the girls. An unconscious shiver ran through the group at the idea of being separated.

"I know you're scared," Will continued in his best teaching voice, the one he used when Rachel was about to blow a gasket over not getting a solo. "But we should be safe enough if we stay in pairs, right? It's the only way to bring them home safely. Are you in?"

There was a moment's silence. Then Matt shot a surreptitious glance at Brittany, who was still clutching her teddy in a vice-like grip.

"I am."

His words seemed to spark something in the others. Once he had agreed, the rest of the group began to chorus their confirmation.

"I'll go with Rach," Finn offered. Rachel gave him her best glowing smile. Across the room, Kurt and Mercedes were involved in a furious whispered argument. Kurt kept jabbing the dark-skinned diva in the ribs and glancing rapidly across to where Matt and Brittany were seated. He raised his eyebrows at Mercedes, who heaved a heavy sigh.

"Matt, would you come with me?" she asked. Matt looked a little surprised, but nodded. A small smile fell into place on Mercedes' face before she turned to Kurt with a furious scowl. "Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," he countered with a smug smirk. "Looks like it's you and me then Brit."

"Yay!" Brittany exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "Can I hold your soft little baby hands?"

"Of course you can," said Kurt kindly. He stared pointedly at Mercedes. "It's always a good idea to hold hands when you're scared."

Mercedes stuck out her tongue at him and quickly avoided Matt's questioning glance. To alleviate the tension, Will rubbed his hands together.

"Well that's settled then. Emm- Miss Pillsbury, you can come with me."

"Mr Schue," Matt said as they all stood up. "Have you tried phoning the police again?"

The curly-haired teacher sighed. "The phone line's still down. Maybe that heavy rain we had earlier knocked down a mast."

"Or maybe," Rachel added. "Somebody cut the power."

They all stared at her, silently berating her tactlessness.

"What?" she muttered darkly. "It's a logical explanation. They could be jamming our cell phones too, and-"

"Let's go Rach," Finn interrupted, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the door. "Before you give anyone a heart attack."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Mercedes Jones walked along in huffy silence, trawling the woods on either side of the trail for any sign of her missing friends. She carefully avoided looking at the broad back of Matt Rutherford who was jogging a couple of yards ahead of her.

_Damn you, Kurt Hummel,_ she thought sulkily. _This is all your fault_.

To be fair, it wasn't. It was her own fault if it was anyone's. She should have known Kurt would pull a stunt like this when she told him how she felt about Matt. Kurt loved matchmaking almost as much as he loved makeovers. Although he was her best friend and Mercedes loved him dearly, at this moment in time she wanted to strangle Kurt with his favourite Hermès scarf.

Actually, on second thought, maybe that wasn't such a good idea considering what had been going on around here.

Before she could think of any other method of making Kurt pay for his meddling, Matt released a cry of pain. Fear stabbed at Mercedes' heart and she rushed to catch up to him where he lay in a heap on the ground.

"Matt!" she exclaimed, panic evident in her voice. "Matt, are you OK?"

"I… Fuck!" he swore, gripping his left leg and wincing. Mercedes looked down and saw that his foot was caught in some sort of animal trap. The thing had vicious silver teeth that glinted even in the dim light and Mercedes could see blood pouring freely from the wound.

"Stop movin'," she commanded. She sounded a lot more in-control than she felt. "You'll only make it worse, don't you watch TV documentaries?"

She grabbed a small branch from the ground next to Matt and used it to prise the trap open. Matt gave a small scream of agony, but then a relieved sigh rippled through his clenched teeth and he closed his eyes.

"Mercedes Jones, you are a goddess," he said gratefully. Mercedes' stomach twisted and butterflies began to flutter within.

"Not exactly," she replied jokingly. "I just watch a lot of Discovery Channel. Here."

She poured some water from her flask onto the wound, which wasn't too deep but still looked nasty. Satisfied that it was clean, she shrugged out of the shirt she was wearing open over her day-glow vest top and ripped a piece from it to use as a bandage. Trying to prevent her fingers from trembling, she swathed the wound in the white material. She tied the ends deftly and Matt gasped again.

"Sorry, sorry!" she yelped. She tried to finish off the knot as gently as possible. "Is that OK?"

"It's perfect," Matt replied. A troubled shadow crossed his face. "Mercedes, when Quinn showed me Tina, in the bathroom, she… there was a cut on her foot just like this one."

"You think whoever's hunting us down planned it?" asked Mercedes.

"I honestly don't know," Matt shrugged. "Maybe."

Mercedes shivered. "Well then, we better find the others as soon as we can. I don't like it out here one little bit. Can you walk?"

Matt got gingerly to his feet. He tested putting his weight on the injured foot but grimaced and crumpled in pain.

"Here," Mercedes said immediately. "Lean on me."

She propped him up like a human crutch and they began to hobble forward awkwardly.

"Thanks Mercedes," said Matt quietly. "You're awesome."

She blushed spectacularly and looked away.

"Mercedes," Matt probed. "Did I do something to upset you? Cos whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"No!" Mercedes exclaimed. "No, no you didn't… I… dammit!"

Matt gave an amused chuckle. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah I am. It's not you, it's-"

"It's not you, it's me, right?"

"Actually, I was going to say it's not you, it's Kurt."

Matt looked confused again. God, he was so adorable with that expression. Like a little lost puppy. Mercedes took a deep breath.

"Look Matt, here's the thing," she said in a rushed voice. "I-told-kurt-i-like-you-and-then-he-started-this-plot-to-get-us-together-and-i-know-you-don't-feel-the-same-and-"

"Mercedes," Matt said in a slow, soothing voice. "Breathe."

"Oh," she panted. "Right."

"Now repeat what you just said. In English, if that's not too much trouble."

"I told Kurt I like you and then he started this plot to get us together. And I know you don't feel the same, and I'm OK with that. Really, I am. Because I'm a glee freak, and you're a football player and-"

She was cut off by a hysterical giggle bursting from Matt's lips. She frowned sullenly at him.

"Oh hell to the naw! I just poured my heart out to you boy, no matter how unreciprocated my feelings are, you do _not_ get to laugh at me."

Matt shook his head and wiped away a tear of mirth. "I'm not laughing at _you_ Mercedes. I'm laughing because I've been trying to pluck up the courage to talk to you since I joined glee club."

"I… Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

They both smiled shyly.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"I meant to tell you earlier," Rachel said to Finn as they walked along side-by-side. "I think it's really sweet, the way you stuck up for Kurt with Noah earlier."

"I… uh, thanks. I guess."

Finn gave her his best lopsided smile. Only Rachel would notice something like that and say it to him. Anybody else would feel too awkward.

"Are you doing alright, Rach?" he ventured tentatively. Rachel stiffened.

"Yes. I'm fine thank you Finn."

"Are you?"

Rachel looked up into his patient, kind face. Though Finn could be pretty dumb sometimes, she felt like those brown eyes could see past the carefully maintained façade she had developed to fool the others into thinking she was alright. She sighed heavily.

"No."

Finn put a tentative arm around her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," said Rachel. But she was Rachel Berry, and she couldn't help herself. "It's Jesse!" she exploded. "I can't help thinking about what happened to him, and it's just so horrible. I know he broke my heart, but I… I…"

"You still care about him," Finn said coldly. He felt a sweep of disappointment take over him.

"Well, yes, I do," said Rachel, confused by his sudden icy nature. "Jesse and I were very close. I don't like to think of him in pain."

"Oh." Finn quickly removed his arm from around her tiny frame and walked ahead. Rachel had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Realisation hit her quite suddenly.

"Finn," she said carefully. "Jesse and I _were_ close. But I think in reality, even if he hadn't egged me, we wouldn't have worked. Jesse and I are too alike. I need someone to neutralise my dramatic nature and flair for life. Someone different." She stopped and put a shaking hand on Finn's arm. "You and I are different, Finn."

Finn beamed. "Yeah, I guess we are." He stroked her face and leaned in close to her.

Their faces were inches from each other when they heard the scream of pain.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"I'm glad you picked me to walk with Kurt," said Brittany simply. Kurt smiled at the ditzy blonde. She was still clutching her teddy like a talisman. "You have the softest hands of anyone I know. Even Santana."

"The secret's in my hand cream," Kurt explained. "I'll give you some when we get back to the lodge."

"And then I'll have soft little baby hands?" Brittany enquired. Kurt chuckled and bobbed his head. He slipped his hand into Brittany's cool one. "Good. Santana likes holding hands before we make out. I'll surprise her."

"Brit," said Kurt. "Although I spend my time mooning over men I can never hope to be with, like Finn and Brad Pitt, I don't think I'm ready to have a conversation about what you and Santana get up to together. I have a weak stomach. You should talk to Puck though. It would probably turn him on."

"You talk a lot," Brittany said sagely. "Sometimes it makes my head hurt, but your voice reminds me of the angel who was in the Christmas play at my sister's school so mostly I don't mind."

"Brit, that angel was a seven-year-old girl named Eloise."

"You have a cuter face than her though. Like a baby's."

Kurt rolled his eyes and led Brittany down the left-hand fork in the dirt track. The girl cracked him up, but sometimes he couldn't help wondering what on earth was going on in her head.

"Hey Kurt, look at that!" Brittany exclaimed, pointing to something lying on the muddy path. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Kurt replied, speeding up. "But let's find out."

However, once he got close enough to see the item lying on the ground, Kurt skidded to a stop. Bile rose in his throat and he tried not to vomit all over the wet grass by the roadside.

It was a hand.

A hand, and further up the path Kurt could see what looked like a leg and a complete arm. A decapitated head lay in the grass, its glasses glinting. Kurt threw up and turned to look at Brittany. The blonde cheerleader was staring at the hand in front of her with tears brimming in her brilliant blue eyes. She turned to Kurt, trembling from head to foot.

"That hand is wearing a glove like Artie's."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**Oh God, what did I do? Artie fans, I'm so sorry. I really hate myself for this. Please review. And don't kill me.**


	10. Down Goes Another One

**A/N: Hi everybody, sorry it's taken me so long to update! I hate making excuses, but I have my debs ball in two weeks and I've been going crazy trying to find a dress and shoes and everything… But now I've got everything covered, so it's all cool!**

**As usual, the support for this story has been just outstanding. Every time I check my inbox and see a new review, I squeal. So, thank you to the following people: MmmStrawberryLips, LittleMissCheese, SawyersNumberOneFan, TotesGleek120, Noway, Bella1992, JMHawthorne, LiveLoveLaughLife and OMG. Thanks for the support, keep it up!**

**Title? **_**Down Goes Another One **_**by McFly.**

**DISCLAIMER: Do you really think if I owned Glee Kurt would still be boyfriendless?**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Shelby Corcoran pulled to a stop in her Prius with a squeal of tires and the smell of burning rubber hung in the air. She leapt from the vehicle, her aluminium bat clutched in her hand. Fury bubbled in the pit of her stomach and it was all she could do to stop herself from screaming with pent-up frustration. The journey to Lake Witkeel had been a complete nightmare. She couldn't get there fast enough, though she was pretty sure she had broken about a dozen state speed limits in her attempt. The whole time her mind had been brimming with images of Rachel, dark mixed in with light, good with bad.

She would protect her daughter, if it was the last thing she did.

The ground was slick with mud, the by-product of recent rainfall, and Shelby slipped slightly as she stumbled towards the large wooden lodge where the McKinley kids were staying. She thanked the heavens that Puck had let it slip when she and Beth met him in the grocery store.

The place was brightly lit; lamplight poured like golden butter from the large glass windows. However, she couldn't hear and tell-tale sounds of chatter or laughter, and that worried her. If there was one thing she had learned in her years coaching Vocal Adrenaline, it was that teenagers never stayed quiet for long.

As though to compound her fears, the front door to the building swung open at her light touch. Something was most definitely not right here.

"Rachel?" she called in a wavering voice. "Rachel, are you here?"

Silence.

"Will? Quinn? Puck? Anybody?"

No answer.

"Dammit!" Shelby groaned. The place was deserted. Perhaps they were still unaware of the danger, oblivious to the horror Jesse had revealed to her, and had gone on a ramble or a picnic. Or perhaps… perhaps she was too late. Paranoia gripped her in a vice-like hold as she scanned what appeared to be a communal area for any sign of a struggle. Nothing immediately sprung to attention, but there was something unnerving about the vast emptiness of the huge building. Shelby tightened her grip on the bat and padded gingerly down the nearest hallway. The carpet muffled the thump of her heels.

Just like the communal area, this corridor too was silent. However, one of the doors stood slightly ajar. She crept forward and pushed it wide open. A horrific smell overpowered her and she swayed on the spot.

There was a girl in there. A dead girl. She recognised her as the Asian girl Jesse used to mention in passing. Tina something-or-other. The one with the not-so-stutter. Jesse had said she was dating the boy in the wheelchair, and he got Shelby almost nervous when he recounted their performance of _Dream a Little Dream_. The kid in the wheelchair had sung, and he was _good_, Jesse said. And this girl, this girl who was lying pale and prone and going into rigor mortis, had danced with the other Asian kid, the footballer. Jesse said they were talented.

Shelby staggered out of the room, a hand clamped over her nose and mouth to prevent herself from vomiting. Jesse's words were like a broken record, replaying endlessly in her head: _Glee's not safe_.

He'd sure as hell been right about that.

Terror gripped her as she continued to stumble down the corridor.

"Rachel?" she called, her voice hitching almost hysterically. "Rachel, are you here?"

She slammed open door after door, half-afraid of what she might find. All the bedrooms lay empty, the only sign of human life the suitcases which were spilling their contents onto the floor like blood pouring from an open wound. Shelby shivered subconsciously.

When she reached the last door on the corridor, a shot of static seemed to ripple through her. She gulped loudly.

_Women's intuition_, she thought grimly and wrenched the door open.

It was another bedroom, one evidently occupied by teenage girls. A curling tongs lay on one dresser, straightening irons on the other. The beds were laden down with make-up products and clothes were strewn everywhere haphazardly. It smelled of floral perfume, and one of the occupants had brought a set of red-and-white McKinley High Cheerios-issue pompoms with her. A six pack of Natty Light sat on the floor, a couple of cans missing, and the drapes were drawn.

Shelby made her way cautiously across the dimly-lit room and put one hand on the drapes to open them. The tingling sensation happened again. She pulled.

She blinked.

Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Will?" Emma asked, picking her way gingerly through the undergrowth. She was wearing a pair of blue hospital-issue shoe covers on her feet and latex gloves that she had pulled up as far as her elbows. "Do you think it was a good idea to split the kids into pairs? I mean, I've never watched a horror movie- too much blood and dirt- but from what I gather splitting up never works out too well."

Will sighed and ran a hand through his head of curls. He looked tired, older than Emma had ever seen him look. The events of the last few days were clearly taking their toll on him.

"Will?"

"No Emma," he said tonelessly. "I don't think it was a good idea. I don't think it was a good idea at all. But the fact is, we don't have much of a choice. There are three kids missing in this forest, and another three are dead. I have to get Puck and Santana and Artie back safely. I'll never forgive myself if I don't."

"Will, this isn't your fault-"

"Yes it is, Emma! I was the one who brought them here, I-I sealed their fate. I'm supposed to be their teacher, but I didn't protect them. I failed them."

"Will," Emma said again, and she took his hand in a tight grip. "This is not your fault. You are doing your very best to keep the kids safe, and that's all anyone can ask of you. You are not the guilty party here, that honour belongs solely to the creep who is doing all of this."

She spoke so fiercely that Will stared at her. She was panting slightly with exertion, not being one for grand speeches, and her normally immaculate hair had come loose from the low chignon she had been wearing it in. He reached out to tidy it up and smiled.

"Did anyone ever tell you how amazing you are?" he asked her softly. Emma flushed and dimples appeared in her cheeks.

"Only when I did their chores for them," she whispered back.

"Did Carl ever tell you?"

"Will, I-"

Will held up a hand to stop her. He glanced around wildly. "Did you hear that?" he mouthed.

Emma shook her head no, but just as she did so she heard a rustling in the bushes nearby. She let out a tiny squeal. "It's coming from over there."

"Get behind me," said Will firmly.

"Will-"

"Do it Emma."

She complied meekly as the rustling noise intensified. Whatever or whoever was in there was coming closer. Will crept towards the noise, grabbing a thick tree branch and hoisting it high in the air. He braced himself as something tumbled from the undergrowth.

He screamed.

It screamed.

He lofted the branch.

"Mr Schue!" Mercedes exclaimed. "Mr Schue, it's us!"

She leaned back into the undergrowth to push some thick brambles aside and Matt limped awkwardly into view. His face was contorted with pain and he seemed to be using a thin branch as a crude crutch.

"Guys, what happened?" Will asked.

"Matt got his leg caught in some sort of trap," explained Mercedes, helping the footballer into a more secure position. He nodded grimly.

"We, uh, we think it was the same sort of thing Tina got caught up in," he muttered. Will and Emma exchanged a frantic glance that did not go unnoticed by the two teenagers.

"Someone's hunting us down, right?" Mercedes guessed, a challenge in her voice as though daring them to contradict her. "Like some sort of crazy-ass horror movie?"

Will sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to speak. Emma, realising this, pulled herself up to her full height and attempted to get into guidance counsellor mode. She nodded sharply to Mercedes.

"It appears that way, yes."

"This is a hot damn mess," the diva whispered. Matt wrapped one arm around her consolingly.

"We need to find the others," he said in a halting voice. "Before… before…"

He couldn't finish, but he didn't need to. Silent understanding passed between the quartet and they all nodded.

"Kurt and Brittany took the trail to the left of ours," said Will.

"And Rachel and Finn said they'd loop around by the lake," Matt added. "But they were moving pretty fast, they could be halfway across the mountain by now…"

"OK," Emma said with another sharp nod. "Well let's focus on finding Brittany and Kurt, and then maybe we can track the others down."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Meanwhile, Rachel and Finn had frozen with their faces inches away from each other. Rachel's' brown eyes had widened impossibly and Finn's face was devoid of colour.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered to the petite girl. "I mean… I didn't imagine it or anything? Cos I do that sometimes."

"No Finn," replied Rachel. "You didn't imagine it. I heard it too."

As though to confirm this, another piercing scream whistled through the air to their waiting ears. The couple exchanged frantic glances.

"That was a guy's voice," Finn said with certainty. "It might be Puck, or Artie."

"Or Matt or Mr Schue," added Rachel. "Not Kurt though. But it could be any of the others… and it sounded like they were in a lot of pain."

"Whoever it is, it came from this direction," Finn said, pointing through the trees towards the sound of the lake water lapping. "Let's go."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Rachel's voice was little more than a squeak, all her former confidence forgotten. "The killer could have them. It could be a trap."

Finn gave her a fierce frown. "I don't care what's going on. They're our friends Rach, we have to do what we can to help them."

He took off into the woods, leaving Rachel standing in his wake. She bit her lip for one long moment and then followed him. Her dark hair whipped behind her as she sprinted to keep up with Finn's long strides, occasionally catching on the branches of the trees which were growing close together in this dense part of the woods. When he realised she was following him, Finn turned around to take her hand and pulled her along with him. Rachel couldn't help feeling a slight thrill as their hands brushed together. Finn's large, cool hand felt pleasant against her own, which was slick with sweat.

Together, they crashed through the undergrowth. Rachel squirmed as a small rodent ran over her foot, but she bit her tongue to stop herself from screaming. She didn't want Finn to think she was scared, otherwise he wouldn't let her come with him when they figured out what was going on. So she held her tongue and focused on keeping pace with the tall quarterback, who was craning his neck to follow the screams that were echoing at intervals. Eventually, he drew to a stop, so suddenly that Rachel crashed into his broad back. Finn's hands slid around her waist to steady her and he pressed a finger to his lips.

They could hear the noise more clearly now, and as pale moonlight began to seep through the dark silhouettes of the trees, Rachel realised that whoever owned the voice was just a couple of hundred yards away. Her breath caught in her chest and she listened keenly as they crept forward cautiously. It was a strange sound, a half-choked scream punctuated by rasping, rattling breaths. Rachel shot Finn an anxious glance.

"It sounds like they're being strangled," she mouthed to him. Finn nodded and continued to move forward slowly.

All of a sudden, Rachel's foot caught on a half-exposed tree root and she stumbled forward, knocking both herself and Finn out of the comforting seclusion of the forest and into full view. Immediately, Finn jumped in front of her protectively, wheeling around in search of the cold-blooded killer. Rachel, however, stepped out neatly from behind him wearing a soft expression and pointed down the lake shore.

"I think I'm safe enough," she murmured sadly and jogged towards the source of the noise, who was neither dead nor dying.

Noah Puckerman was lying in a crumpled heap over the still, pale form of Quinn Fabray. Behind them, Rachel could see an old-fashioned bathtub, the kind with clawed feet. Quinn's eyes were closed, and she looked almost peaceful, but her hair was slick to her head with what looked like slushie seeping from the roots down her neck to her thin shoulders. Like Kurt had said, she was most definitely dead.

And Puck… Puck was clutching her close to him with his face buried in her cornsilk blonde hair. His strong hands were stroking her face tenderly and the pained screaming noise was coming from him. His shoulders were shaking violently and Rachel realised with intense horror that he was crying. Noah Puckerman was crying.

"Do something," she hissed frantically at Finn. He shook his head violently.

"Why me?"

"You're his best friend!" 

"Former. And you dated him!"

"For a period so brief it's hardly worth mentioning," Rachel countered, but her defiant expression faltered and, after shooting Finn a look of pure venom, she turned her back on him and ran to Puck's side.

"Noah," she said softly, placing her hands on his shoulderblades. "Noah, it's OK."

"No it fucking isn't!" he growled between sobs. He twisted to face her and Rachel's stomach plummeted. His usually strong, sly face was a mask of grief. His mouth sagged down at the corners and tears carved grimy tracks down his cheeks. "How the hell can it be? When Quinn is- when Quinn is-"

"I know," Rachel murmured as he began to sob again.

"You know what the worst part is?" Puck asked her breathlessly. "The real freakin' killer? It's that I never even told her how I felt. I spent all my time pokin' fun at her and callin' her a MILF and makin' her miserable and now… now…"

"I know," Rachel repeated, as kindly as she could manage.

"I was supposed to be her boyfriend and I sucked so bad, you know? Like, I sucked _royally_. And what sucks the most is that I really frickin' cared. I cared about her. I used to walk past her in the hall just so I could smell that lilac perfume she uses, and when she left her cardigan at my pool party after sectionals I kept it so that I could just smell it and think of her. And when she told me she was havin' my baby… it was like nothin' else mattered. But do you think I told her that? I'm Puckzilla, I rule McKinley with an iron fist and nunchucks, but do you think I could bring myself to tell Quinn Fabray I loved her? Nope. I just told her to stop gettin' fat."

"Noah, I think Quinn-"

"I freakin' loved her Berry! I loved her but I couldn't get over my stupid ego and just tell her. And now sh-she's gone, and she'll never… I mean, I never…"

"She knew Noah," Rachel said gently, easing the broad-shouldered football player to his feet. "A girl always knows."

"You really think so?" Puck whispered bleakly. Rachel rubbed soothing circles in his back and Finn came to hold him up on the other side.

"I know so," she replied firmly. "Now come on, let's get you back to the lodge. You're freezing."

Before he could utter another word of argument, the other two began to lead a dazed Puck back through the trees. Finn smiled at Rachel over his shaved head.

"You were great," he mouthed. Rachel blushed and went back to massaging Puck's back with her gaze rooted firmly on the ground. They trudged along in silence for a couple of minutes until Finn slipped slightly on something on the ground. He looked down slowly and gulped.

"Th-that's blood," he said shakily. Immediately, three pairs of eyes began to follow the trail. It lead onto the dirt track, so they hastened to follow it. The blood pools grew larger as they progressed towards the road and Finn hurried ahead to push the branches out of the way for the others. He had just stepped out onto the road when he gave a yelp.

"Jeez, you guys scared me!" he exclaimed. Rachel and Puck looked at each other, confused, and hurried to catch up with him. What they found surprised them. Finn was standing with Kurt and Brittany, both of whom looked uncharacteristically sombre.

"Dude, what's goin' on?" Puck demanded, looking from one to the other. Finn blinked.

"I was just about to ask the same thing," he shrugged. Everyone turned to Kurt for an answer, knowing it wouldn't come from Brittany. The camp fashionista sighed miserably and wrapped one arm around the blonde cheerleader, who was trembling from head to foot.

"Artie's dead," he mumbled. "They- uh, they-"

"They chopped him up into little pieces and put them on the road for us to find, like a scavenger hunt," Brittany finished. A shocked silence engulfed them all for the longest of moments. Then Finn glanced up the track towards the lodge and frowned.

"Hey," he said slowly, turning to face the others. "We didn't leave any lights on, did we?"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Finn's right," Brittany said a couple of minutes later as they approached the house. "We didn't leave any lights on. I know because I get scared in the dark, so I was holding Kurt's soft little baby hand as we went out the front door."

For once, she was right. They were all certain that the house had been in darkness when they left. Worse, they knew they hadn't left the front door swinging open like this. No matter how panicked they were, they weren't that stupid.

"Do you think we should go in?" Rachel asked quietly. "This reeks of horror movie blood-bath."

"We're goin' in," said Puck fiercely. "The bastard that killed Quinn could be in there."

Before anyone could stop him, he pushed past them into the lodge. Kurt and Finn followed immediately, with Brittany and Rachel bringing up the rear.

"Who's in here?" Puck yelled furiously. "You come out here, or I'll rip your head off, I swear it!"

"Puck, shut up!" Kurt hissed, terrified. A floorboard creaked and they all jumped. The door to the last bedroom on the girl's corridor opened slowly and Rachel squealed. Everybody tensed, ready to defend themselves from this madman, and then-

"Mom?" Rachel whispered, dumbfounded. For Shelby Corcoran was indeed standing at the end of the corridor, framed by the small plate glass window. "What…?"

"Rachel," said Shelby, relief in her voice. "You're alright."

"What were you doing in there?" Finn demanded suspiciously. He made to go down the corridor and the rest of the group followed him. Shelby retreated to the doorway, blocking their way.

"I don't think you kids should go in there," she said slowly.

"Why the hell not?" Puck exclaimed. Shelby's gaze flickered to Brittany.

"Just trust me, I don't-"

But it was too late. They had surged past her and were now staring at the grisly sight within the bedroom in horrified disgust. Shelby moved towards them with her hands held up in a display of innocence.

"Rachel," she said imploringly, the green orbs of her eyes glittering with emotion. "This isn't what it looks like, I swear to you, I-"

"Mom," whispered Rachel brokenly. "What did you do?"

She stared from Shelby Corcoran, her _mom_, to the room's large French window and allowed a shocked sob to escape from her throat.

Hanging in the window, hands and feet bound with silk ropes, was the grisly form of Santana Lopez. She was stripped to her lacy red underwear, and as she was stretched out completely, everyone in the room could see the name 'Brittany' tattooed in flowing script on the inside of her right thigh. Her eyes were wide with terror, the pupils fixed and dilated. And worst of all, her chest was carved open. Rachel and Kurt, the only two in the group who weren't flunking Biology, realised at the same time that her heart had been carved out.

And there on her abdomen, daubed in her own blood, were eight ghastly, taunting words:

_I always knew Santana was a heartless bitch._

"Mom," Rachel gasped again. "What did you _do_?"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

**Oh dear. Santana fans, I am so, so, so sorry. Please don't lynch me.**

**As always, please review and tell me what pleased/horrified you about this chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Don't Let the Sun go Down on Me

**A/N: Hey everyone, I'm ba-ack! Apologies for the really long lay-off between chapters, I was suffering from a serious case of writer's block. Fortunately, I cured it by writing a one-shot. Anyone who's still annoyed that I killed off Mike (I still feel bad about that), check out **_**You Should Be Dancing**_**, in which our favourite Other Asian is alive and well…**

**As always, I'm delighted to report that your reviews are keeping me ticking over. We're at an amazing total of 76 now! So on that note, thanks to: LiveLoveLaughLife, MmmStrawberryLips, Bella1992, SawyersNumberOneFan, JMHawthorne, CTruck, LittleMissCheese, Nadia, TheUltimateGleek123, AG3293, cut-thestring (twice) and KairiNamineStar. Reviews are love.**

**The title this time is taken from the Elton John classic **_**Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me**_**, one of my personal favourites. I may be only 17, but even I can see that the oldies are the goodies.**

**DISCLAIMER: I think it's pretty obvious by now. Glee? Not mine. Sadly.**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"Rachel," Shelby said evenly, staring directly at her daughter. "Rachel, I promise you I didn't do this. I came to find you, to_ warn_ all of you, I-"

"Can it," growled Puck. He glared at Shelby, evidently certain that she was guilty.

"Noah," Rachel said warningly.

"No Berry. I get that she's your mom and you don't want it to be her but come on! I don't buy this Little Miss Innocent act. Do you? Honestly, do you?"

"I…" Rachel trailed off, speechless for once. She allowed her gaze to fall on her mom Shelby was pale and trembling from head to foot. However, Rachel greatly enjoyed watching procedural crime dramas on television when she was not singing, dancing or plotting ways to ensure Mr Schuester gave her every possible solo in glee club. Her viewing of these shows had given her reasonable insight into the various traits displayed by guilty suspects: they sweated profusely, fidgeted and their gaze darted skittishly to the left. Shelby, however, was doing none of these things. She didn't sweat or twitch suspiciously. Her gaze remained locked on Rachel, unwavering and imploring. This was the only evidence Rachel needed. She turned to Puck with a defiant expression. "Yes, I do."

"Rachel," Kurt said gently, trying to help Finn to hold Puck back. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah Rach," murmured Finn. "I mean, it _is_ kinda weird. Your mom just turns up here out of the blue just when all our friends are getting taken down _Friday the Thirteenth_ style? I mean, you two haven't exactly been close, and-"

"She couldn't do this!" Rachel exclaimed shrilly. "She couldn't! She's built like me, she'd never be able to do this to Santana. And she said she came to warn us. Mom, tell them!"

"It's true," said Shelby calmly. Her gaze travelled from her tearful daughter to Puck, who looked ready to snap her neck with his bare hands, to Finn, who seemed to be in two minds, to Kurt, his eyes narrowed with suspicion, to Brittany, who was crying quietly and clutching a tiny teddy bear. "I know how this looks, but I swear to you I didn't kill that girl."

"Santana," Brittany sniffled. "Her name is Santana Carmen Lopez. I forget my middle name all the time, but I could never forget hers. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."

Shelby looked touched as Rachel wrapped an arm around the tall blonde cheerleader. "I'm sorry. But I promise you, I didn't do anything to Santana. I was visiting Jesse at the hospital, and he woke up and he told me that somebody was out to get all of you."

"No shit Sherlock," Puck said sarcastically. "Do any of you buy this crap? Other than Berry, I mean."

"Dude, I think I do," Finn murmured slowly. He turned to look at Shelby again. "Uh… Ms Corcoran? Did Jesse say who it was?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, relieved that the tall boy believed her. "Yes, he wrote it down for me. I-I have it here somewhere."

She began to search frantically through her pockets. She extracted half a packet of gum, her keys and one of Beth's dummies, but no programme. She sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through her hair.

"I must have left it in the car."

"Yeah sure, and I'm Queen Latifah," Puck sneered.

"No, I did have it! I don't think I knew the name, but it felt strangely familiar. Dammit, why don't I remember?"

"Because you're lying!" the tough boy shouted. He turned his back on the cowering woman and faced the daughter who so resembled her. "Berry, you might want to leave."

"Noah, please-"

"I won't kill her," he said shortly, and for some reason Rachel believed him. Perhaps it was because she had seen the good inside him when they had dated, when he picked glee club over football because it was the right thing to do. "But I'm going to tie her up and gag her."

"Noah, this is ridiculous!"

"If she's telling the truth, we'll know soon enough. The killings are pickin' up speed. And we'll release her, no harm done."

Rachel opened her mouth to argue, but before she could start one of her patented Rachel Berry Rants™, Shelby cut her off.

"Fine," she said evenly, looking Puck straight in the eye. "If that's what it takes to show you I would never do anything like this, fine. But I hope you're wrong. Enough innocent blood has been spilled here."

"Hummel, give me a hand? You too Brit."

Brittany held out her hand to Puck, looking confused, and it was so like any ordinary glee club rehearsal that Rachel couldn't prevent a startled laugh from slipping between her teeth.

"I don't want to see this," she whispered to Finn, and the lanky quarterback nodded.

"Let's go," he said, steering her away down the corridor and out onto the small porch.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Mercedes, are you OK?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one whose leg looks like the pattern on one of Rachel's godawful sweaters."

Matt laughed, a short bark of amusement that was cut off as he stepped over an uneven patch of ground and gasped in pain. Mercedes rushed to his aid, helping him over to a large boulder.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," she told him, lifting up the leg of his jeans. The wound beneath was ugly and angry looking. She was no doctor, but Mercedes was pretty sure it was infected. Badly. "Am I being too rough?"

"No," Matt breathed through clenched teeth. "You have soft hands. Gentle."

Mercedes felt a dull blush creep across her cheeks as the handsome football player smiled cheekily at her.

"You keep sayin' things like that and people are gonna start to talk," she said shyly. Matt took her chin in one hand and tilted it up to face him.

"Let them," he told her simply, and kissed her with a passion so intense it would have made Kurt swoon had he been there to witness it. "Now stop avoiding my questions. Are. You. OK?"

Mercedes shook her head dizzily and sat down next to Matt, letting her head drop to his broad shoulder companionably.

"No," she sighed. "I'm not. This is all just too weird. All these people getting' killed off around us… It's not supposed to happen to people like us. It belongs in glossy big-budget movies with unnecessary sex scenes and absurdly beautiful teenagers with legs up to their armpits."

"Hey now," said Matt in a soft voice. He wrapped an arm around her. "Didn't you get the memo? You _are_ an absurdly beautiful teenager."

"Oh _hell_ to the naw," Mercedes giggled.

"Too cheesy?"

"Way too cheesy. But I kinda like it. How's the leg now?"

"Better," admitted Matt. "But it's still a bit sore."

"Don't sweat it, we can just take it slow. The walking, I mean."

"Guys, I hate to interrupt… but we really need to start making a move if we want to see a foot in front of our faces on the way back to the lodge," said Mr Schue, strolling back into view with Emma in tow. "Matt, are you OK to keep going?"

The football player eased himself to his feet and placed his injured leg gingerly on the ground. To his great surprise, it only hurt minimally. Mercedes' homemade tourniquet seemed to have done the trick. He threw her a glowing grin.

"I'm fine Mr Schue," he informed him. "Mercedes has been brilliant."

Mercedes felt herself start to blush again and tried to maintain some vestige of self-control. If Kurt was here, he would have clubbed her to death for acting like a giggly twelve-year-old with her first crush. And possibly for getting mud on her new high-tops.

"Alright then," Will grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Let's go."

He steered Emma by the elbow around a patch of funky-looking green-tinged mud on the forest floor and continued along the tiny winding trail. Matt and Mercedes followed along a couple of steps behind, still limping slightly. Mercedes couldn't prevent a delighted smile from caressing her features as the two teachers bent their heads close together in whispered conversation. She jabbed Matt in the ribs and pointed.

"What?" he asked blankly. Mercedes rolled her eyes. "_What_?"

"Boy, you are no Kurt."

"I'm glad. I could never walk in those Lady Gaga heels."

As they watched, Emma skirted gingerly sideways to avoid a foul-smelling patch in the middle of the trail. She rested a hand tentatively against the trunk of a tree and attempted to detach a tree branch from where it was caught on her sneaker. She wobbled precariously and put her foot down to steady herself. A metallic click rang out in the deserted clearing.

"What was that?" Emma asked, her lips pursed daintily. She turned to Will with frightened, globe-like eyes. "Will?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "But I-"

"Miss Pillsbury!" Matt yelled. "Duck!"

He made a mad scramble for the red-head, but he was too far away. Emma turned in slow-motion, her face a mask of horror, and attempted to dodge out of the way. However, her reflexes were much too slow. She had no chance against the lethal blade swinging towards her from behind the boughs of a nearby tree. It winked as it caught the light before connecting with a sickening squelch.

"Emma!" Mr Schue yelled.

Mercedes screamed.

Matt swayed dangerously, his face tinged with green.

The guidance counsellor fell. And for once she couldn't scream or faint at the sight of the blood seeping from her lower abdomen.

She was too far gone.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Thanks for this Finn," Rachel said with a sheepish smile. She was standing on the lodge's front porch with the tall quarterback. It was getting colder outside and she could see her breath in the air when she spoke. As gooseflesh rose on her exposed arms, Finn shrugged out of his hoodie and wrapped it carefully around her. It swamped her, but she appreciated the idea nonetheless.

"No problem."

"Finn," she said carefully. "Do you think my mom did all this?"

"No," replied Finn firmly. "No, I don't. It's like you said, she's too small. She might be able to handle Quinn or Tina or even Artie, but Santana is badass and Mike's really strong. There's no way Shelby could overpower either of them."

"I'm glad you believe her," Rachel whispered. "It means a lot to me."

Finn shot her his best endearing, lopsided smile and looped an arm across her slight shoulder blades. Rachel drew into his patient embrace and leaned against the hard muscles of his chest. Silence engulfed them for a moment.

"Rach," Finn said, finally unable to take the quiet. "I have to ask you something. About what your mom said."

"I know where this is going Finn," she replied instantly. "It's about Jesse, correct?"

Finn shrugged sheepishly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I know you two used to go out and…"

"And we finished," Rachel finished promptly. She sighed and turned around so that she was facing Finn. "I'll admit it, my heart leapt when my mom said she was visiting with him in hospital, that he was the one who told her to come, because that meant he was alive. And I'm happy he's alive, because I care about him. I always will. Jesse was the first boy I ever had a proper relationship with. We're so alike, he and I, in tune with each other."

"Oh." Finn's voice was full of defeat. Rachel smiled and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight.

"Jesse and I are alike," she continued in a gentle tone. "But we broke up, and there will always be a part of me that won't forget how he broke my heart when he egged me and went back to Vocal Adrenaline. I loved Jesse once, and I still care for him, but the spark I felt when we sang Lionel Richie together in the library has been extinguished. It's gone."

"Oh," Finn repeated, sounding much happier now. "Well that… that's good. I-I mean, I know how upset you were when you two broke up, so _that_'s not good, but…"

"Finn, we already talked about this, remember? Just before we found Noah with Quinn? And we nearly…"

"I know," Finn sighed. "I just thought, when you found out that Jesse was going to be alright, that-"

"Finn Hudson," Rachel murmured in exasperation. "You are an idiot."

And with that, she promptly stretched up on her tip-toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. Finn gave a strangled noise of surprise before giving himself over to the embrace fully. As Rachel's tongue entered his mouth, he felt a rush of electricity. This was how he always wanted things to be.

When he was with Quinn, he had wanted her, of course. The girl was smoking hot, and he really thought he loved her. But with Rachel… it was different. Minimally, but infinitely at the same time. He didn't just want Rachel, he _needed_ her. He felt certain that he would die without her, and when she pulled away from the kiss, her teeth lingering momentarily to nibble on his bottom lip, he felt a pang of disappointment. Her hair was ruffled from where his hands had roamed through it, and her cheeks were flushed.

"I… uh…" Finn was dumbfounded. Completely dumbfounded. Speechless. He took Rachel's small form and held her close to him.

"I love you Finn Hudson," she whispered against his chest.

"And I love you, Rachel Barbara Berry," he replied. "Glad we straightened that out."

Finn dipped his head, ready to kiss her again. Rachel's moist lips parted slightly in anticipation and her hands made fists in the cotton of his t-shirt. Finn only wished it hadn't taken the insane murder of their friends for them to finally get their act together. Kurt would be having serious words with them when he found out.

He stroked Rachel's face and pulled her so close that he could see the individual lashes guarding her delicious chocolate brown eyes. A sudden longing to protect her overcame him as their lips met once more.

The sound of running feet pulled the pair out of their reverie. Mercedes was jogging up the trail towards them with Matt a couple of metres behind. He was using a crude wooden branch to propel himself along and even from this distance they could see the bloodstained bandage on his leg.

"Dude, what's wrong?" Finn called, running to meet them. Rachel followed suit and caught Mercedes by the arms. The black girl was trembling violently and her eyes were wide with fear.

"Mercedes," Rachel said fiercely, shaking her. "Mercedes, what happened out there?"

She just shook her head dumbly, and Rachel turned her gaze despairingly to Matt. The football player was pale beneath his caramel skin tone and his clothes were covered in blood, but he seemed more in touch with reality than his companion.

"Miss Pillsbury's dead," he choked out. Rachel gasped and Finn swore as they led the two freezing teens inside. "Something came out of the tree, it like- it sliced her in two. We- we saw it happen."

"When?" Finn asked anxiously.

"A couple of minutes ago," said Mercedes shakily, recovering some of her usual composure. "And…"

She broke off, tears in her eyes. Matt held her close to him and looked up at the others with resignation.

"And we heard footsteps running away soon after," he said in a broken voice. "And… and laughter. Whoever did this was watching."

"Well that means it can't be Shelby!" Finn said confidently. "Puck's had her tied up for almost a half an hour. I knew you were right, Rach."

Rachel, however, still looked troubled. She looked Matt directly in the eye.

"Where's Mr Schue?"

"He… he wanted to take care of the body," he told her in a halting voice.

"And you left him out there on his own?" asked Finn angrily. Matt held his hands up.

"We couldn't get him to come with us. I tried man, but he wouldn't budge. And 'Cedes was so scared, I had to get her to safety."

"We need to find him," Finn said.

"Let's go get the others then," added Rachel. "We need to stick together from now on."

She flounced off down the corridor to where Kurt was squatting on his hunkers outside one of the bedrooms. He looked weary, as though he had seen too much horror to cope. When he saw the group, he waved feebly and stood to hug Mercedes briefly before opening the door.

"Puck," Finn called to the other boy, who was standing with his arms crossed against the wall and glaring at a gagged and bound Shelby. The older woman wasn't tense or scared, but sat in a relaxed pose. Her hazel eyes held no contempt as she eyeballed Puck, only pity. "Puck, let her go."

"What?"

"Miss Pillsbury's dead."

The pair of them worked quickly to untie Shelby's bindings and Rachel peeled away the tape on her mouth as gently as possible. She hugged her mother tightly before pulling away.

"We have to go find Mr Schue," she said to the room at large. "All of us, together. We can't split up anymore."

_Not if we want to survive_. The unspoken words hung in the air between them all. Kurt shivered. Then Shelby spoke.

"Where's the other girl? The blonde one, with the teddy bear?"

"Brit," Matt breathed.

"Isn't she with you two?" asked Kurt, his gaze focused on Rachel and Finn.

"She was with you," Finn said, worry in his voice.

"Yes, but she said she wanted to talk to you. Didn't she come out to the porch?"

Both Finn and Rachel shook their heads. Matt wheeled around and pounded back down the corridor with the others in hot pursuit. He came to a skittering stop in the living area.

"Did anyone open the French doors?" he asked in a hushed voice. Their silence was answer enough and they all hurried to peer out into the night, desperate for a glimpse of the ditzy blonde.

"She's not out there," Puck growled, frustrated.

"No," added Kurt, straining to peer into the darkness. "But there's something there… near the kitchen building."

"I think I see it too," Mercedes agreed. She tugged on Matt's arm and pointed, showing him what they were looking at.

"It's…" Rachel broke off and swallowed. Her gaze flickered from Finn to Puck uneasily.

"It's the bathtub."

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**Apologies for the cliffie. I'll try to post again tomorrow, but after that I might not be able to post for a couple of days. I'm getting my Leaving Cert exam results on Wednesday, and they will determine if I get to go to college… Scary stuff, so if you could keep me in your thoughts, I would greatly appreciate it!**

**Thanks for reading, and please drop me a line to review!**


	12. Helter Skelter

**A/N: Alright, so first off I wanted to thank everyone who wished me luck for my exam results tomorrow. I'm a nervous wreck, so the well-wishes really helped! The nerves are also the reason for this update- when I'm nervous, I write. Quickly and erratically, so I apologize if this update isn't up to scratch.**

**As usual, my reviewers have outdone themselves. Really, you guys amaze me. I have love and thanks this chapter for: cut-thestring, mia bella jacob, Bella1992, Nadia, LiveLoveLaughLife, Don'tTellMeICan't, DreamBigToFallHard, SawyersNumberOneFan, TheUltimateGleek123, Tayler, Alejandro, KairiNamineStar and AlexG3293. Keep up the great work!**

**This chapter, our title comes from **_**Helter Skelter**_** by the legends that are The Beatles.**

**DISCLAIMER: I think we all know by now, I don't own Glee. And yet I get a little sadder every time I write that.**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"What do you mean?" Shelby demanded. "What's the deal with the bathtub?"

Paralyzed by fear, none of the others had the heart to tell her. They were all staring, transfixed, at the large shape, which seemed to be taunting them from across the lawn. Much as they tried, none of them could shake the image of Quinn lying next to the tub from their minds. Quinn, lying still. Quinn _dead_. The nightmare image swam before each of them, Quinn's face blending with Brittany's in their mind's eye. Kurt released a small whimper, like a kitten when somebody treads on its paw. The remaining members of New Directions exchanged an abrupt glance and then took off as one across the lawn with Shelby bringing up the rear.

"Brit!" Matt panted, wincing slightly but not slowing down. "Brittany, are you out here?"

"Brittany, we know you're scared, but it's alright. Come out," Rachel pleaded. Her stomach plummeted as they neared the bathtub and she squeezed Finn's hand as tightly as she could. It was clear that the tub was not empty.

"Brit," whispered Matt again. He tried to rush to the tub, but Mercedes held him back. Tears glistened in her own dark brown eyes as she wrapped one arm around the football player and the other around the quivering Kurt. Nobody spoke.

The bathtub was indeed full. Water was spilling out over the sides onto the ground in a steady drip-drip-drip. And Brittany was lying in the tub.

In an act of true cruelty, she had been stripped, like Santana, and they could see that she had a tattoo to match that which they had seen on the Latina cheerleader earlier in the bedroom. Her face was relatively peaceful; even now, she wore her trademark dizzy smile. But on her stomach lay a hairdryer. Rachel, who had near perfect 20-20 vision, followed the power chord and found that it was attached to an extension cable which snaked through the open window next to the tub into the kitchen building.

"Don't!" she exclaimed as Puck made to attempt to resuscitate the prone blonde cheerleader. "She's been electrocuted, you could get shocked too!"

"Even Brit isn't dumb enough to just climb into this bath," Matt muttered, almost to himself. "She wouldn't. Someone forced her."

"Or drugged her," whispered Shelby. She pointed and they all saw the pink mark of a recent needle puncture in the tender crook of her elbow.

"Dude, this is _crap_!" Finn yelled furiously. "We have to find this bastard and make them pay."

"Mr Schue is out there on his own," Kurt moaned, and a shiver rippled through the group. "What do we do Finn?"

As always, the group turned to face the tall football-player-turned-male-lead. In times of trouble, it was inevitable that they would turn to him. Regardless of how much he protested, Finn Hudson was a leader. And the remnants of New Directions really needed a leader right now. Finn frowned for a moment as he thought, then his expression cleared.

"Shelby," he said in a strong voice that didn't entirely hide his internal uncertainties. "You have your car, right?"

Their former rival nodded.

"Well, you take Rachel and-"

"Finn, I'm not leaving you!" Rachel exclaimed, and there was a dangerous note to her voice which told him that arguing would be foolish.

"Well then, I'm not leaving either," said Shelby firmly. "I have to protect my daughter."

Finn made an unhappy noise, but said nothing further. He seemed to be at a loss now, perhaps terrified for Rachel. If she was safe, he wouldn't care what happened to him. Despairingly, he glanced around to Puck for help. The shaven-headed boy nodded sharply.

"Aretha, you're goin' to take Rutherford and Hummel and get the hell out of here in that car," he told Mercedes.

"What?" Matt said angrily. "No, you need me here."

"Matthew," said Rachel softly. "Look at you. You can barely walk. Your safety is at the greatest risk here."

"We can't just leave you," Kurt started to say, but Finn stopped him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You have to," he told the smaller boy. "Go and find the nearest police station and tell them what's going on. And then call our parents."

"But Finn, you could d-"

"I know," he said firmly. "But my mom, she's strong. Stronger than your dad. He can't lose you Kurt, and I couldn't live with myself if I let my brother die when he could be safe."

Perhaps it was the word 'brother' which did it. Kurt looked as though he might burst into tears at any moment, but he bobbed his head in agreement and hugged Finn briefly. Then he turned to Shelby, who tossed him her keys. He caught them deftly and stared down at them.

"Alright," he choked out. "We'll go. But what about you guys? Mr Schue is still out there, but it's too dangerous for you to go cavorting around in the woods. It's too dark."

"I'm goin' to go," Puck said. Everyone stared at him.

"Dude, no, you can't," said Finn, a pleading note in his voice.

"Noah-"

"I'm going," he repeated over their protests. "Never leave a man behind, right? Finn, you keep Berry and her mom safe. Hummel, time to man up and take control. Get these two to safety."

"But Puck," Matt argued. "You know how horror movies go. If you go off on your own, you-"

"I know," he said darkly. "But I have to. I couldn't keep Quinn safe, so the least I can do is keep the rest of you alive. Quinn would kill me if I got you all murdered."

"And what would she do if you got yourself murdered?" Kurt challenged. Puck's face split into a grin.

"Knowing her, she'd probably pray to God to bring me back to life just so that she could kill me herself for bein' so stupid."

And with this last, Puck turned on his heel and disappeared into the forest, withdrawing a slim torch from his pocket to illuminate his path. Shock reverberated through the rest of the group.

"Finn," Rachel pleaded. "We can't just let him go."

"You heard him," said the tall boy. "It's what he wants. Now you three," he added, turning to Matt, Mercedes and Kurt. "Go."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Puck stalked swiftly through the undergrowth. Though he would never admit it to the others, he was scared shitless. He thought of himself as a badass, as though nunchucks and a ridiculous haircut made him invincible. But what he'd seen in this place had taken all that away. His friends- yes, he _did_ think of them as his friends now, these people he had spent years teasing and taunting and tossing in dumpsters- were in grave danger. Some of them were already gone, taken from earth so cruelly and maliciously that he had to wonder if there was any higher power watching over them at all.

Take Brittany, for instance. Sure, the girl was as dumb as a bag of hammers, but she was also a complete and utter sweetheart. Stupidity and naivety were the only real things she ever did wrong. She befriended kids like Becky Jackson, who would have been completely marginalised otherwise, and she was always willing to help anyone who asked her. It wasn't fair that she was dead because some sicko… Hell, he didn't even know why the psycho was doing this.

And Tina and Artie. Neither of them had a bad bone in their bodies. Tina dressed in those dark, scary clothes but beyond them Puck knew she was one of the happiest, sunniest people in the world. Her laugh was infectious, likewise her smile. He remembered when Shelby had taken Beth, when he was at his very lowest, that Tina could still make him smile. And her boyfriend, who Puck had taunted for so long because of his disability. He knew now that Artie had been stronger than him or any of his fellow football goons. He overcame adversity every day and still found a way to be smart and witty and use that chair like a BMX bike. Dead. Gone. Cold.

"This is shit!" he screamed to the night sky. "This is fuckin' shit!"

He wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up in a ball and cry until he had no tears left in him. He wanted to punch something so hard that it would never be the same again. Mostly, he just wanted Quinn.

_She's gone_, he told himself ruthlessly. _She's gone, and she wouldn't want you pining over her. She'd want you to get on with what you said you'd do._

He had to get to Mr Schue. He had to bring him back safe. He had to.

It must have taken him twenty minutes to find any sort of pathway in the forest. It was so much darker now, and he was in the densest part, where the trees on either side of him almost met above his head. The thin beam of light from his torch was pretty much useless.

When he did find his way onto a dirt trail, he found that he could speed up at least a little. When he spotted the blood on the road, he blanched in spite of himself, remembering how Kurt and Brittany had found the grisly remains of Artie scattered like litter along the track.

"Mr Schue," he called. "Mr Schue, can you hear me? It's Puck. Mr Schue?"

Part of him knew that what he was doing was extremely stupid. He used to have horror movie nights every weekend with Finn, Matt and Mike, before the babygate drama tore him and Finn apart. He knew the formula for death-by-crazy. Going off on your own? Check. Not grabbing any form of weapon? Check. Calling out loud for the crazy bastard to hear? Check. He sped up.

The road began to slope down gently. In the daytime, it probably wouldn't have even been noticeable, but now Puck's senses were heightened with a mixture of adrenaline and darkness. His feet were searching frantically for the ground as he couldn't see well, so he felt it when he began to trot down the small, gradual hill. Sure enough, he soon found himself in a sort of hollow. He slid between the trees surrounding the clearing as best he could and then drew to a stop with a strange mixture of relief and horror.

Mr Schue was in the clearing. He was wearing only a thin t-shirt and kneeling next to something which was shrouded in his hiking jacket. Puck realised with a pang that it was Miss P's head and shoulders. His faculty advisor and Spanish teacher was leaning protectively over her and Puck could see grimy tear tracks on his face as his shoulders dipped and sagged. The man looked like he felt when he managed to find his way to Quinn and hold her one last time.

He shouldn't be here. Berry, she was the sensitive one. Or Hummel. Heck, even Finn would have been better. He was the one who had experience with handling a grieving person. His mom was a mess for years after his dad died. What good was Puck? Everyone knew he was a deadbeat, just like his father. He didn't have a compassionate bone in his body.

"_I never should have called you a 'Lima Loser'," _Quinn's voice said in his head. _"You're not. You're special and romantic."_

He almost smiled, remembering how proud he felt when she said that. And he guessed she was kind of right. Maybe he had been a Lima Loser once, but glee had changed that. Glee and Quinn and… well, and Mr Schue.

"Mr Schue," he called out as he strode into view. "Mr Schue, it's me, Puck. It's time to go."

The teacher looked up, a hopeless expression on his handsome features.

"I'm sorry Puck, I can't do that," he said, as though the teen had just asked for an extension on a Spanish assignment he'd already had extra time to hand in. "I have to stay here. With Emma."

"Mr Schue, if you do that-"

"I could die. Yeah, I know. But I have to keep her safe."

"Mr Schue." Puck swallowed, bracing himself. "She's dead."

"I know that. But I have to keep her body safe. Whoever did this could come back, they could do… they could do anything to her. I can't allow that."

"Then we'll hide her," suggested Puck. "We'll keep her safe, out of sight, and then when all this is over we can come back and get her. You'll be keeping her safe."

"You promise?" Will asked, and he sounded like a child who questions their parents' decisions. Puck bent down and looked him in the eye.

"I promise," he told his teacher, and as one they lifted the cold, bloodied form and began to move Emma Pillsbury's remains to where they would be safe from further desecration and humiliation.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"This is a hot damn mess," Mercedes muttered as she and Kurt helped Matt to the car. It seemed to have become her personal mantra in the past few minutes since they had left the others. She said it quietly, matter-of-factly, and the other two were so defeated by the loss of Brittany that they didn't argue with her once.

"She probably parked where the bus dropped us off," Matt said through gritted teeth, still resolutely ploughing on with his crude crutch. "That's not much further."

"I think there was a police station ten or twelve miles away," added Kurt. "I remember seeing it across the road from a darling little boutique I thought I'd like to visit. We can get there quickly if we drive fast. Everything will be fine."

Nobody commented on the fact that this last statement sounded more like a question.

They hurried on briskly, trying to shake the feeling of being watched. They attributed it to the fact that they were nervous, that their adrenaline was racing through their veins at the idea of getting away from this godforsaken place.

When they finally jogged down the last stretch of the dirt track, Kurt gave a little yelp of happiness and broke into a run. There, right in front of them, was Shelby's shiny blue Prius.

"We're getting out of here," he told the others. "We're getting out of here and we're going to end this nightmare for everyone."

Matt laughed excitedly and pressed a kiss to Mercedes' smiling mouth. Tears of shocked joy began to spill down the diva's face and she clutched him so tight she thought she might never let go.

"Get in," Kurt tossed over his shoulder as he slipped into the driver's seat. Mercedes and Matt clattered into the backseats and fastened their belts. After all that had happened, the last thing they needed was to be killed in a car crash because they neglected their safety. Kurt jammed the key in the ignition and turned it. There was an angry grating sound and the car cut out. He tried again and the same thing happened. And again. And again.

"The car won't start," he muttered wildly. "The car won't start."

He peered under the steering column and, sure enough, the wires had all been cut. The car was useless.

"Dammit!" he shrieked. "Damn it to hell!"

He jumped out of the car and ran around it. All the tires had been slashed. Whoever this psycho was, they were good.

"Kurt?" Mercedes said in a small voice as she and Matt joined him outside the car once more. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong_? What isn't wrong? 'Cedes, we can't drive this car."

"What?"

"He's right," Matt said in a hollow voice. "It's ruined beyond repair."

"You bastard!" Kurt howled into the night. "You cowardly bastard! Why are you doing this? Just come out and face us instead of slinking around like a snake. Come out, you crazy bastard!"

"You rang?"

Kurt froze. From the dark forest a lone figure emerged, shrouded in black from head to foot. It strode confidently towards them, graceful and cat-like. The silver hilt of a long, lethal-looking blade glinted in the moonlight. Behind him, Kurt heard Mercedes sob.

"Who are you?" he shouted, a challenge in his voice. The figure laughed mirthlessly.

"Now, now, Kurt, that's no fun," it said in a sing-song voice. "Can't you guess?"

"Why are you doing all of this?" Matt challenged. "Why?"

"Why not?" the figure shrugged nonchalantly. "I must say, this is a nice surprise. Three at once. What fun."

Kurt knew then that they were just sitting ducks. They had no weapons. Matt and Mercedes stood little chance of getting away. Matt was limping badly and Mercedes wasn't fit enough. If he didn't do something, they stood no chance.

"Go," he said over his shoulder to the pair.

"Kurt, what-"

"Go!"

"Aw, isn't that sweet? Little Kurt is playing the hero," the shrouded form jeered. "No matter. I'll get you all anyway."

"Why don't you take off that mask and face us like a real human being?" Kurt asked angrily. The figure laughed again.

"And ruin the big finale? I think not. I've been waiting for you for a while Kurt, you were one of the ones I was most looking forward to. I had planned something a little more grandiose, but spur of the moment works just as well."

"Matt, take Mercedes and go. Now!" Kurt screamed at the other boy, and then he rushed at the figure, attempting to tackle as Finn had shown him during his brief stint as a member of the McKinley High football team. The figure clearly hadn't been expecting his advance; he managed to throw it off balance for a moment. But it was strong, and it quickly overpowered him. It pinned his hands and pushed him against the hood of the car. It's eyes danced madly through the slits in the mask it was wearing.

"Quite the last performance, Kurt Hummel," it hissed. Then it lifted the knife in its hand and slashed. The small boy slid down the car and to the ground. The figure stood over him and grinned widely.

"Hey!" Matt yelled, antagonising the anonymous attacker. "Over here!"

The figure turned and he put all his force into swinging the branch he was using as a crutch, grateful that he had decided to join the baseball team as well as football and basketball. The figure crumpled to the ground and lay still.

"Come on," he urged Mercedes. "We have to go back and find the others. That won't keep the bastard down for long."

"Kurt!" she moaned, fighting his hands. "No Matt, we have to bring Kurt with us."

"'Cedes," he said gently. "He's gone. There's nothing we can do for him."

"NO!" she howled, scratching at his arms and thrashing wildly. "No! Kurt, Kurt honey… Kurt!"

"We have to go!"

"Never leave a man behind, that's what Puck said, please, we have to-"

"We'll come back for his bod- for him when we can, I promise. Mercedes, I promise."

This last was spoken in such an intense, genuine tone that Mercedes stopped fighting and nodded. She stared tearfully at Kurt lying in a heap on the ground, his eyes half-closed, and then turned away. Matt yanked her along by the hand and into the camouflage of the forest, out of sight.

A couple of minutes later, the black-clothed figure opened its eyes and sat up. A hand reached up to massage the lump rising on its temple just above its ear and it growled furiously. With one last, satisfied glance at the crumpled form of Kurt Hummel, it rose fluidly to its feet and began to stalk back up the trail towards the lodge, singing softly under its breath.

"_Well do you, don't you want me to make you  
I'm coming down fast, but don't let me break you  
Tell me, tell me, tell me your answer  
You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer_

Look out!  
helter skelter, helter skelter, helter skelter".

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**I feel so bad right now, I want the killer to kill **_**me**_**. I am a bad, bad person. Ugh.**

**Please review, but try not to be too horrible. Trust me, I feel bad enough already. **

**And again, exam results tomorrow so expect a couple of days break before I update again. Fingers crossed everything will go well!**


	13. Calling All Angels

**A/N: OK, I am officially the most awful writer ever. I told you guys I would update soon and... I lied. Well, I did intend to update quickly after my last update, but things got kinda out of hand. I got the grades I needed in my exams and my debs ball was a whirlwind and I had to move away from home and start college and everything... and I know that's a terrible excuse, but it's what happened. Please accept my apology and this new update with good grace!**

**As always, thanks to my loyal and wonderful reviewers. Since my last update, these include: cut-thestring, LittleMissCheese, juleszapineapple, TotesGleek120, rj29, Bella1992, LiveLoveLaughLife, SawyersNumberOneFan, KairiNamineStar, VoiceInMyHead, Swing Girl At Heart, Kkaty (twice), TheUltimateGleek123, CirqueDuGleek, OMG and omgBOOKS. I'm proud to say we're now at a whopping total of 106 reviews- so keep up the epic work!**

**The title this chapter is inspired by **_**Calling All Angels**_** by Train. Brilliant band, brilliant song.**

**DISCLAIMER: Yeah, I know, I know. I don't own **_**Glee. **_***dissolves into tears***

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Rachel Berry was dumbstruck, a rarity for her. Normally, she couldn't keep her mouth closed. It was as though her passion for life and music built up inside and then spilled over without warning, like a river bursting its banks. Sure, it drove everyone crazy, but it was her. Though the rest of the glee club insisted that they wanted to suffocate her via stuffing an old sweatsock in her mouth, the truth was that they wouldn't have her any other way.

Which was why it was so unnerving that she was now sitting in complete silence across from her mother at one of the tables in the communal dining building. Finn was in the kitchen, attempting to cook up something edible. Rachel knew he wanted to feel like he was doing something to help her and Shelby; with Puck and Matt gone, he was the one remaining alpha male and seemed to think it was his duty to take care of the women he was protecting. A duty which apparently included cooking spaghetti in an ancient, rusted pot over the stove.

Shelby watched her daughter carefully over the rim of her coffee cup. The girl's blank expression worried her.

"Rachel," she said in a gentle voice. "Is everything OK?"

The diminuitive diva seemed to physically jolt out of her reverie. She looked almost surprised to see Shelby sitting there staring anxiously at her, and she smiled sheepishly as a dull flush spread across her cheeks. However, she soon replaced this expression with one of grim certainty.

"We're going to die," she said, her tone as matter-of-fact as it was when she explained the virtues of a power ballad.

"Oh no Rachel, we-"

"We are," the petite girl pressed firmly. "I may not be a red-blooded football jock, but I've seen enough teen slasher movies in my time to know how this works. Our numbers are dwindling steadily and it's only a matter of time before our unseen attacker turns up in the same place we're hiding. And when that happens, we are going to die."

She jutted her jaw out dangerously as though daring Shelby to argue with her. The older woman sighed wearily and reached across the table to take her daughter's hand. She really wished she had made contact with her sooner.

"You're right," she whispered softly. "There is a distinct possibility that we will die. But I swear to you," she added fiercely. "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Even if it means-"

"No!" exclaimed Rachel, so much horror in her voice that Finn poked his head around the kitchen door, a strand of spaghetti dangling from his mouth. She stared openly at Shelby with something akin to disgust in her deep chocolate eyes. "No, there is no way on earth I am letting you sacrifice yourself to save me."

"Rachel, I'm your mother. And I know I haven't acted like it in the past, but I'm stepping up to the plate. It's my job to protect you."

"And what about Beth?" Rachel challenged. "You're her mother now too, and she needs you more than me. You have to take care of her now, and I am not letting you die and leave her on her own just because you feel guilty for giving me up. I've had a happy, fulfilling childhood. You need to ensure that Beth does too."

Shelby opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again promptly when she saw the expression on her older daughter's face. "Fine," she hissed, defeated. She turned to Finn, standing in the doorway watching them squabble with a bowl of spaghetti in each hand and one balanced in the crook of his elbow. "Is she always this stubborn?"

The tall boy smirked. "Pretty much," he shrugged, a note of admiration in his voice, and he flashed Rachel a glimpse of the patented Finn Hudson Goofy Grin®. Shelby sighed huffily.

"Fine," she said again. "Fine, I wont throw myself into the path of any bullets to save you. But in return, you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"If you get a chance to get away, you have to take it."

"Well of course, we'll all-"

"Rachel, if you get a chance to run, you have to go. Even if that means leaving me behind."

"No, I couldn't. You're- you're my _mom_."

"Precisely. And what sort of mother would I be if I just let you walk to your death with open arms?"

"But... but..." Rachel trailed off weakly. Shelby's expression was unwavering. "I- OK. But only if you promise me the same thing."

The two women stared at each other for the longest of moments, mirroring each other's stubborn fury. Then, as one, they nodded. The deal was done.

"Um... who's hungry?" Finn asked lamely. He plonked the bowls of spaghetti down on the table and flopped down next to Rachel. His hand found hers and interlaced their fingers as the trio began to pick at a meal none of them really had the heart to eat. A tense silence fell over them.

_THUMP._

Finn froze with a forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth. Rachel and Shelby exchanged wildly terrified glances.

"Get under the table," Finn mouthed to them as he got to his feet and padded towards the door.

"Finn, what are you-"

The quarterback placed a finger to his lips to silence Rachel's unfinished question and made a frantic gesture to her and Shelby. Rachel tried to hold in a terrified sob and tugged Shelby down under the table with her. They sat facing each other, knees touching, and tried hard not to breathe audibly.

The floorboard creaked as Finn neared the door above them. They heard his sharp intake of breath as he placed his hand on the doorknob. Rachel whimpered and shut her eyes. Shelby pulled her close and hugged her in a vice-like grip. They heard the slight squeal of rusty hinges as Finn pulled the door open wide and then-

"Jesus Christ dude, it's me!"

The two women tumbled unceremoniously out from under the table to see Puck crossing the threshold, Mr Schue stumbling in his wake. Both of them looked pale and shaken, but were blissfully unscathed from their foray into the forest. Rachel clambered to her feet and threw herself at them. Mr Schue grunted on impact and Puck made a noise which sounded suspiciously like a sob, but neither of them shrugged the primadonna off.

"Oh thank heavens!" she breathed hysterically. "I was so worried about you both, out there all alone. I mean, I tried not to show it for the sake of both my sanity and the rest of the group's, but I _was_. Even more worried than the time I heard Kurt reduce a room full of old women to tears singing _Hallelujah_, and that was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, I-"

"Rach," Finn interrupted in his gentlest voice as he prised her away from Puck and Mr Schue, both of whom were gasping for air. "You're babbling."

"I'm sorry," she said, shame-faced. "I do that when I'm feeling particularly emotional and don't have a piano on hand to vent with. I'm just glad you're both safe. I don't want any of us to split up anymore."

"We won't," Puck assured her, massaging his ribcage. "It's gonna be OK Berry. Hummel and Rutherford and Aretha are gonna get help and we're all gonna get home safe and sound."

"That sounds nice," a voice said from the kitchen doorway. "But there's just one problem with that little fairytale. You see Noah, I'm going to kill you all now."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Matt's leg was killing him. He had been trying to play it down ever since he caught his leg in the goddamn trap, trying to pretend he was fine for the sake of everyone else in the group. He had always been good at hiding his true emotions and fading into the background. At being invisible.

But he didn't want to be invisible anymore. His leg was aching, and Mike was dead, and all his friends were disappearing one by one, and Kurt Hummel had just had his stomach slashed open in front of him. He was hobbling along, holding a sobbing Mercedes under one arm and his crutch under the other, and he didn't want to be invisible. He wanted to scream and curl up in a ball and weep until he shrivelled up and died.

But he didn't. Because he was smart, and he knew he had to keep his head so that he could find the sick bastard who was doing this and rip them limb from limb. Maybe he would even gut them, like they had done to Mike.

So he bit his lip to hold in the screams that were threatening to explode from deep within him and focused instead on propping Mercedes up as best he could. They were in this together now, two kids who had just lost their best friends.

"'Cedes," he murmured quietly as he slowed their already lethargic pace even further. "Talk to me."

"What do you want me to talk about?" the diva shot back with venom. "How Kurt just died to save us? Or maybe about how Quinn is lying in a clearing somewhere and will never get to hold her baby girl? Is that what you want me to talk about? Or maybe Brit, or Artie, or Santana, or Tina, or Miss P, or Mike?"

As soon as she spat out the last name, she seemed to realise her mistake. She shook her magnificent head of dark hair hopelessly and stared at the ground.

"Matt, I'm sorry," she muttered bleakly. "I shouldn't have said that, it was cruel. I just- it's just..."

"I know," said Matt gently. Awkwardly, he pulled Mercedes closer to him and leaned his makeshift crutch against the tree beside him. "I know, 'Cedes."

Mercedes allowed her body to fold against him and pressed her face to the tight muscles of his chest. She fisted her hands in his neat dark curls and cried, angry, pained weeping that came from somewhere deep inside her. And Matt buried his face in the raspberry-scented haven of her glossy black hair, finally allowing the tears to slip down his cheeks. It would have been a beautiful moment had it not been so unspeakably tragic.

Eventually, the two broke apart. Matt picked up his crutch and rubbed self-consciously at his red-rimmed eyes. Mercedes picked at a frayed thread in her jeans.

"We should keep moving," Matt mumbled, sliding his hand around hers. "We have to get back to the others before..."

He couldn't force himself to finish the sentence, and Mercedes didn't need him to. She gave him a watery smile and led the way back through the undergrowth.

Ten minutes later, they emerged in the clearing between the main house and the kitchen unit. Seeing the lights blazing in the latter, Mercedes and Matt surged forward.

They froze inches from the building's French doors and stared inside in horror.

Their dark-clothed attacker was standing with his back to them, facing Finn, Rachel, Puck and Mr Schue. He was holding Shelby tight to him, and both Mercedes and Matt could see the blade of his knife winking in the glare of the halogen bulb overhead. It was still dark with Kurt's blood.

Matt caught Puck's eye and inched forward slowly. He placed a finger to his lips and Puck widened his eyes a fraction before allowing his gaze to return to the dark figure. Matt took another ginger step forward, holding Mercedes back with an outstretched arm. He raised his crutch in the air and sidled towards the door, close enough to the handle to see his breath fogging up the glass.

And then a twig snapped beneath him.

The figure turned, still wearing its ghastly mask. Matt could still see its smile though.

"Matt, Mercedes," it said cordially, as though welcoming them to a tea party, its voice muffled only slightly by the glass between them. "How nice of you to join us. Come on in."

Neither of them moved, transfixed by fear as they both were.

"Oh, don't be like that. If you don't come inside, I may just be so upset that I find my hand _slipping_-" The knife was jiggled menacingly and Rachel gave a little scream. "- and that _would _be a pity, wouldn't it?"

Matt felt Mercedes grasp his hand and squeeze it tight. He knew what they had to do and allowed her to pull him inside. The figure chuckled.

"That's better. Well, now that everyone's here-"

"Cut the crap asshole," Puck growled furiously. "Just tell us what the hell you want with us."

"Ah Puck," the other sighed heavily. "You really are a dumb jock, aren't you? I want to kill you, of course."

"But... why? I mean- who..."

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Mr Schue? I thought you were supposed to be a teacher. I guess I'll be waiting a while."

"Just tell us!" Mercedes begged.

"And where would the fun be in that?" the figure laughed coldly. It drummed its fingers along the hilt of the knife and a collective shiver ran through the group.

"Please," Rachel whimpered. "Please, just put us out of our misery. Tell us."

The figure froze and a smile crossed its face beneath its mask. It tugged Shelby hard, pulling the two of them closer to Rachel's cowering form.

"Well Rachel," it said silkily. "How can I ignore a request such as that when it comes from such a sweet, cherubic mouth?"

With one fluid movement it reached up and removed the mask which had been hiding its identity for so long, taunting and threatening them.

"Holy shit," Puck and Matt chorused. Finn staggered. Mercedes choked on a sob.

It wasn't some escaped mass murderer from the newspapers.

It wasn't Karovsky or Azimio or one of their vengeful pals.

Heck, it wasn't even Sue Sylvester.

It was-

"Jacob?" Rachel breathed incredulously. The boy with the jew-fro withdrew a pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his breast pocket and slid them onto his nose with much more grace than any of them had ever seen him affect before. He pulled Shelby by the hair again, narrowing the gap between himself and the small girl even further. He ran a single finger down her cheek.

"The penny drops."

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**OK, so our killer's identity has been revealed. Congratulations to everyone who guessed right, and I hope it wasn't too predictable! I promise, all will be revealed before long...**

**At this point, I would like to mention some of my favourite incorrect guesses- they really made me smile. Other than Jacob, people guessed Emma (these guesses obviously ended with her death) Rachel, Mike, Matt, Puck, Santana, Jesse, Sue Sylvester, Sandy Ryerson, Principal Figgins, Bryan Ryan and Dakota Stanley (these last four are my personal favourites, for sheer epic randomness- credit to Swing Girl At Heart, I was in stitches). **

**Keep on reading and reviewing guys. Now that Jacob has been unmasked, I wonder who you want to survive?**


	14. You Won't Feel a Thing

**A/N: Hi there loyal readers! Firstly, I would like to apologise for the fact that I haven't been very swift with the updates recently. I hate to offer excuses, but the fact is I've just moved to Limerick to attend university and with all the changes it's been really hard to get my creative juices flowing. Thankfully, we are nearing the end of our story, so it shouldn't drag out that much longer.**

**Thank you so, so much to all my wonderful readers, especially those of you who have taken the time to review. It really means a lot to me! So, this chapter, thanks to: twilightsk8r, Swing Girl At Heart, Bella1992, juleszapineapple, Ducks Go Moo, MmmStrawberryLips, LittleMissCheese, VoiceInMyHead, , banjojd, Cribellate, Kkaty, Tayler, islay12 (twice), KairiNamineStar, yowzers, mia bella jacob, TotesGleek120, Maddie, lynxpanther (9 times!), seducedlikemagic, JAMES-EAI, Lucy-Gleek, AG3293, LiveLoveLaughLife, SawyersNumberOneFan, Shadowed Night Sky and anyone else I may have forgotten...**

**Title? **_**You Won't Feel a Thing**_** from the Script's new album Science & Faith. Yes, that is a shameless plug. We Irish have to look out for each other, right?**

**DISCLAIMER: Blah, blah, blah, does not own Glee, blah, blah, blah.**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

"Jacob," Will said, attempting to conceal the fear in his voice. "Why on earth would you do this?"

Jacob shrugged and the movement caused his knife to press more firmly against Shelby's throat. The woman tried to scream but no sound came out. Instead, she squirmed in discomfort. Rachel grabbed Finn's hand and squeezed it tight. Their attacker glared at the contact.

"Why do you think, Mr Schue?" he asked, mild interest in his voice as though he were simply enquiring about the conjugation of a Spanish verb. "Why. Do. You. Think?"

His tone had become steadily more deadly as he continued and a vein pulsed in his neck. The slight tremble of his hand as he readjusted the knife did not go unnoticed by the little bunch of survivors.

"I-I don't know," said Will despairingly. "I don't know what could possibly convince you to-"

"Finn, do you have any insight? Or would you like me to wait while you look up the meaning of the word?"

"Dude, I-"

"Don't call me that," Jacob interrupted icily. "You never treated me like your 'dude' before, so don't start now. It's too late."

"You're crazy!" Puck growled, but his voice trembled slightly and his eyes couldn't be prevented from flickering to the menacing knife that winked in the light of the halogen lamp. It seemed he was weighing up the options, attempting to figure out if he could rush Jacob and knock him off balance. Jacob, however, seemed to read his mind.

"Oh no, Puck," he grinned as he spat out the other boy's name. "I'm not crazy. A crazy person couldn't pull off what I have. And don't even think about trying to play the hero- one step and I'll slit the lovely Miss Corcoran's throat."

Puck's face fell and he resorted to staring despairingly around the room for some nonexistent saviour. Jacob nodded his head approvingly.

"That's better. Though I must say, I feel a tad disappointed. Can't any of you guess why your friends have been falling like dominoes?"

Stony silence remained.

"Nobody?"

Silence.

"Not even you, Rachel?" Jacob asked, a note of hurt filtering through his voice. He gave the small brunette a wounded frown. "Really?"

He looked hopefully at her and held her gaze unwaveringly. Rachel stared fearfully back at their tormentor and when she allowed their gazes to meet, Jacob smiled broadly.

And then Rachel understood.

"Me?" she gasped incredulously. "You did this... because of me?"

"Not because of you Rachel, _for_ you. I did all this so you could be happy. So _we_ could be happy."

"Happy?" exclaimed Rachel, horrified. "You think murdering the rest of my glee club will make me _happy_?"

"Rachel, they've been awful to you," Jacob argued, a mad glint in his eyes. "I've seen how unhappy you are at school, where the teasing and the taunting never stop. I've seen how heartbroken you are when somebody betrays you. I've seen the real you Rachel, the one you hide behind that beautiful, bright show face, and I don't like what I see. I don't like what they've done to you. That's why I had to make them pay. I had to make them hurt the way they've hurt you."

"Jacob, they threw slushies in my face and called me names! You're ending lives, there's a difference."

But Jacob didn't seem to hear her. A smile swept over him as though he had been struck by a ray of purest sunlight and his fingertips caressed the blade of his knife with fondness.

"I'd actually been planning it for a while, you know, biding my time. I wasn't quite sure how it would work, but then I heard Mr Schuester talking to Miss Pillsbury about this cosy little trip. It was perfect! I hired a cabin on the other side of the mountain and I've been holed up there for the last week, getting ready for you all. I'll admit, I was a little nervous when I made my decision- I didn't exactly have any prior experience. So I did St James and that black girl, Candace, first. They were practice runs, you know, to make sure I could get things right? St James broke your heart, and not only that, he stamped on it to make sure the deed was done. And that girl, she started that dreadful egging debacle. I know you're a vegan Rachel; I converted myself when I found out so that we would have more in common, so I understand how traumatic that experience must have been for you. I promise, I put Candace through things that were just as bad, St James too. I'll admit I found it a bit difficult at first, but once I got into the swing of things it got easier. Actually, it was kind of fun."

Rachel stared at him in horrified comprehension. Jacob tugged roughly at Shelby's arms, forcing her to follow him as he paced up and down. His eyes had misted over in happy recollection and he didn't even seem to notice the rest of them standing there. Puck made to move towards him, but Mercedes held out a hand to stop him.

"No," she hissed. "You heard what he said, he'll kill Rachel's mom."

"We can't just let him do what he wants!" Puck spat back, a pained expression on his face. "He killed our friends, we have to-"

"Rachel," Matt said suddenly, cutting Puck off mid-rant. "You have to play along with him."

"What? No, I-"

"Do it. It's the only way any of us stand a chance of getting out of this alive. If you play along, we can find out stuff to use against him, and you can distract him."

"Dude," Finn whispered. "You're freakin' _smart_."

"Not really," mumbled Matt, but he smiled broadly in spite of the situation. "I watch a lot of cop shows on TV, that's how they get the bad guy."

"I-I don't know if I can," Rachel whispered brokenly. "He's saying all these horrible things about our friends and I don't think... I don't know if I can..."

"Rachel," said Will. "You want your mom to live, don't you?"

She nodded weakly.

"Well the only way that will happen is if you play along with Jacob, make him think you're on his side."

"But I... I don't..."

"Rach, you can do this," Finn hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "It'll be like the ultimate acting audition."

Before any of them could say anything more, Jacob had whipped around to face them once more.

"What's going on?" he snapped viciously, his gaze darting from face to frightened face. "Rachel, what are you doing?"

Rachel paused for a moment. She nibbled frantically on her lower lip and looked up at Finn. The tall boy, towering over her, didn't appear to make any movement at all, but she could feel him silently urging her to go for it. She steeled herself, drawing on the spirit of Barbara for courage.

"I-I was just telling him how right you are," she said gingerly. "How- how they _have _all hurt me. You're right Jacob, I can't believe I didn't see it before. I think I was just blinded by my outstanding selflessness and loyalty to my teammates."

There was no denying it; Rachel Berry was good at what she did. If the rest of the group hadn't known any better, they would have thought she had genuinely turned on them. Her voice betrayed no trace of fear. In fact, it was full of her usual pompous narcissism. She even managed to throw Will a convincingly scathing look with a toss of her long dark hair. Finn felt a surge of pride.

"Oh Rachel," Jacob breathed ecstatically. "I'm so glad you understand. I was beginning to think you would never realise how special our love is."

"I'm only sorry it took me this long," the brunette smiled shyly. She took a step forward, allowing her fingers to brush against Finn's briefly as she passed by him. "You've always been so sweet to me, Jacob, how could I not have seen it?"

"Rachel, my goddess, don't beat yourself up," said Jacob. "They were poisoning your mind against your true path in life. You and I have always been destined to be together. It's meant to be."

"You're right!" Rachel exclaimed delightedly with a clap of her childlike hands. She moved closer to Jacob, allowing her gaze to slip every so often to Shelby, who was paralyzed with fear in his clutches. "Jacob, how can I thank you? You've freed me from their poison. I mean, it must have been so difficult for you..."

"I guess it was a little," said Jacob shyly, fishing for more compliments. He was visibly swelling with pride as Rachel heaped more praise on him.

"How did you do it all?" Rachel whispered. She closed the distance between them even further and ran her hands down her slim body. Jacob's eyes widened and his glasses misted over.

"I... uh, I..." he stammered, sounding much more like the strange, microphone-toting teen they all knew from school. He shoved his glasses further up his nose and grinned slyly at Rachel. "I'd been planning it for a while, I just didn't know how to put it into action. And then..."

He broke off and turned his attention to Will, who was watching him with a mixture of disgust and grave disappointment. He beamed broadly.

"Then you told me how, _Schue_!" he taunted. "I was waiting patiently for my weekly appointment with Miss Pillsbury, but you were in there so long I was starting to worry that I would miss my next class. I had English, you see, and Rachel was in that class. So I was just about to knock on the door and come in when I heard you telling Miss P about this delightful little bonding trip. It was perfect. I rented out a little cabin on the other side of the mountain and went to practice on St James and that Candace girl. Then I came up here to wait. Figgins and the rest of the faculty at McKinley are under the impression that I'm deathly ill with glandular fever."

"That- that's so clever," Rachel said in a tight voice, swallowing the bile that had risen in her throat.

"I did Tina first," Jacob continued eagerly. Mercedes whimpered at the mention of her friend's name on the murderer's lips. "She was a bit of an experiment too, I'll admit. She was quiet, Tina, she never really did you any harm Rachel."

"Then- then why did you kill her?" Puck spat out furiously. He had always had a soft spot for the Goth-clothed girl, who was the gentlest of souls despite her appearance and had rarely criticised him as harshly as the rest of the club, even when he deserved it. Jacob rolled his eyes at the football player and shrugged.

"She was in the way."

"You bastard," Will said with quiet fury. "Tina was a good kid, she-"

"Oh Schue, give it up. You think everyone is a good kid, that's your problem. I bet you thought the same thing about Mike Chang. But you were wrong. Wasn't he, Rachel?"

The small girl shot Matt an apologetic look and was eternally grateful that he had Mercedes to comfort him as his best friend's memory was besmirched.

"Yes," she whispered weakly. "You were wrong."

"Mike never did anything wrong, he was a shy kid who just wanted to express himself-"

"Like when he and his Neanderthal football teammates-" Jacob shot Puck, Matt and Finn ugly glares "-chose to _express_ their bodily fluids all over the side of Rachel's house? Or when he joined in the teasing when they slushied her day after day?"

"Mike never joined in," Matt interrupted fiercely. "He never did any of that stuff, he just stood in the background and stayed quiet."

"So he knew it was wrong?" Jacob challenged. "He knew what they were doing was despicable and he just _left them to it_? He was a _coward_? Well then, that's rather fitting. I took away his filthy yellow belly."

"No!" Matt exploded, all thoughts of their plan forgotten. "No, you don't get to talk about him like that! He was my friend and the only coward here, Jacob Ben Israel, is _you_!"

"Tell me what you did next," Rachel said quickly. She shot Matt a calming glance and Mercedes stroked his cheek. The tall boy took a deep shuddering breath and bit his lip so hard that he drew the slightest droplet of blood from the torn flesh. He swallowed a sob. "Tell me, Jacob."

The big-haired boy gave Matt one last, coldly calculating glance and turned his attention back to the object of his affections. A warm smile played on his lips as he caressed her body with his eyes. Rachel was forced to suppress a shudder and instead moved a little closer to their captor. Jacob maintained his vice-like grip in Shelby, who had stopped struggling in his arms. She lay limp in his clasp and held Rachel's gaze with maternal support in her eyes. Rachel nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Next..." Jacob murmured thoughtfully. His brow puckered in concentration and then almost immediately his expression cleared. "Oh of course! Next was that delightful little tramp, Quinn Fabray."

Puck attempted to lash out at him but Finn and Will clamped his arms behind him and held him firmly. The shaven-headed footballer gnashed his teeth and his nostrils flared with undisguised hatred. Jacob watched this with an air of supreme satisfaction.

"Yes, Quinn was particularly fun. She made you so miserable, didn't she Rachel? I heard her in the halls, calling you Man-Hands and Stubbles and all those other names. She was such a hypocrite, you know, always harping on about her precious Bible when in reality she was the biggest sinner of them all. I drowned her in a bath full of slushie. I thought it was a nice touch."

He raised his hand and began to tick off fingers. He held up the fourth uncertainly for a moment and then snapped his fingers.

"It was Artie next, I think. Oh, that one was fun. I'm good with my hands, and my dad used to make me chop wood for my grandpa. I got really handy with an axe."

Mercedes gagged and Finn retched. Jacob laughed mirthlessly.

"Does that upset you?" he taunted. "It hurts, doesn't it? Rachel hurt too, but you didn't seem particularly bothered then."

"Dude, I-"

"What have I told you Finn?" Jacob snapped. "Don't push me."

As though to demonstrate, he pressed his knife to Shelby's neck and made a shallow incision. The woman moaned with panicked pain and Rachel flinched.

"Jacob," she whispered. "Jacob, please let her go. She's my mom."

"But she abandoned you!" he exclaimed. "She left you and then swanned back into your life when it was already too late. Of all of them, she deserves to die the most."

"I've regretted giving Rachel up every day since I did it," Shelby gasped. "She's always been a part of me."

"She's sorry Jacob," insisted Rachel. "She's sorry for what she did. Please."

The boy seemed to struggle with conflicting emotions. His gaze flickered from Rachel to the mother who so resembled her and back again. He saw the genuine longing in Rachel's eyes. His grip on Shelby loosened slightly.

"Rachel," he said softly, apologetically. "I don't know if I can. I mean, I know it's what you want but I... I made a deal and..."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Rachel exclaimed in a hushed voice. "Jacob, what do you mean, you made a deal?"

"Oh, I forgot I hadn't told you! You see Rachel, I'm intelligent and, despite appearances, I'm actually quite physically fit. I tried to hide that at school, so they wouldn't know I was a threat. But in spite of that, I couldn't do everything by myself. Some of these tasks took two."

"Pinning Santana up," Matt said slowly. "And that-that thing that killed Miss P..."

"Aren't you the boy genius?" sneered Jacob. "You were wasted on that god-awful football team, Matthew, really you were. Yes, creating the final effect for Santana was something I couldn't do alone. And the blade that killed Miss Pillsbury- you know, I truly feel bad about that, she tried to help me with my feelings- I couldn't fix that one up by myself. Plus, time passes so quickly; I knew I couldn't get everything done by myself. So while I was making some preparations, my accomplice dealt with that dumb blonde cheerleader. That gave me time to get things ready. And, of course, I had to get rid of Kurt Hummel. That cross-dressing little oddity had been plaguing you for so long, Rachel."

Rachel didn't even bother to feign a simpering response. She simply stared in horror at the bespectacled boy.

"Jacob, who..."

"She should be here soon enough," Jacob said with an impatient wave of his hand. "But the thing is Rachel, in return for helping me she made certain... requests. She had her own reasons of course, not as noble and chivalrous as mine but to each their own. I can try to persuade her to allow your mother to go free, but-"

"But there is no way I'm letting that skank get away with making out with my husband," a calm, cool voice said, filtering in through the open door. "We had a deal Jew-fro. I helped you get rid of this little bunch of misfits and in return I got to kill this tramp and that doe-eyed redhead. Now slit her throat while I get ready to torch this place."

A series of slow footsteps echoed in the deathly silence and then the figure entered, tall and slender and cocking a handgun in one hand and a large petrol can in the other. She tossed her head of honey-blonde curls and smiled coyly at her captivated audience.

"Hey there Will," she said nonchalantly. "Long time no see."

Will felt faint. His head spun and the room seemed to blur before his eyes.

"Terri?"

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**Meh. Not sure if I like it, this was always the chapter I was nervous about writing. As we near the end of our tale, please drop me a line. Reviews are love.**


	15. It's Not Over

**A/N: I'm ba-ack... again. I hope you've all been enjoying the story, but we are nearing the end at this point. Needless to say, I'm not going to give much away. We've got another brief change of pace this chapter, but things will pick up again soon.**

**As usual, credit to the epicness of my reviewers! Since the last update, these include: Bella1992, yowzers, islay12, Isilady, VoiceInMyHead, MmmStrawberryLips, SawyersNumberOneFan, JAMES-EAI, mia bella jacob, TheUltimateGleek123, KairiNamineStar and GGSVHM.**

**As usual, the title comes from a song. For the record, that song is Daughtry's **_**It's Not Over.**_

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own **_**Glee**_**. Or the characters. Or McKinley High. But Christmas is coming, so I'm hoping for a Puck-shaped package under my tree...**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

When Kurt Hummel opened his eyes, he knew beyond any reasonable doubt that he was dead. Several indicators alerted him to this fact:

Firstly, he was dressed in a rather divine cream Armani blazer and a pair of matching dress pants with a faun bow tie and those delicious nude coloured brogues he had been lusting over at the mall every weekend since they appeared in the window of the shoe store. None of these items were in any way dirty, soiled or ripped. In fact, they were in immaculate condition, and felt clean and crisp and cool against his pleasantly warm skin.

Come to think of it, every part of him felt pleasant. He had a vague memory of a searing pain in his abdomen but that was all it was, a memory. He recalled feeling dirty and defeated, battered and bruised, but now his skin was as soft and rosy as that of a newborn baby. His hands roamed over his own face, no longer feeling the bumps and contusions which had served as a souvenir of Puck's attack on him earlier. He felt as clean and rejuvinated as though he had just stepped out of a hot bubble bath. A peaceful feeling of contentment was wrapped around him like a blanket swaddling a baby and he felt healthy and happy and _whole_. His fingers did not come away stained with red when he pressed them to his stomach, and the visceral rusty aroma of congealing blood did not assault his nostrils. A swift peek beneath his tailored shirt revealed that the flesh on his stomach was blissfully unbroken. He was fine.

The main indicator, however, that he was dead and not simply suffering from short-term memory loss which had caused him to lose the time between being stabbed and waking up at home was that standing before him, smiling sadly and holding out a small, peachy hand, was his mother.

Iris Hummel looked just like she had when she dropped to the kitchen floor all those years ago, felled and taken from Kurt and Burt by an undetected clot in her brain. Her rosy-cheeked, heart-shaped face was unblemished by wrinkles, except for the laughter lines that surrounded her sparkling green eyes. Her long brown hair fell in gentle waves past her slim shoulderblades, a pink satin ribbon pulling it back slightly from her face. She was dressed simply but classically, as she always used to be, in a floral blouse in pastel colours and a neat white skirt. Her feet were bare and she smelled exactly the same as Kurt remembered, a sweet mixture of springtime blossoms and musky vanilla.

"Kurt," she breathed, her voice as gentle as ever. "My Kurt."

She beamed tearfully at him, and the boy hurtled into her waiting embrace. His eyes were moist as he drank her in, the mother he had mourned for so long. His arms wrapped themselves fiercely around her neck and he inhaled her aroma in gasping, shuddering breaths. Iris held him close and stroked his hair wistfully.

"I- I'm so so-sorry!" Kurt managed to choke out with supreme difficulty. "I-m sorry, I'm sorry, I..."

"Baby, what on earth for?" exclaimed Iris in incredulity. She pulled back and took his face between her tiny, childlike hands.

"D-dying!" the boy wailed. "I- I've left Dad on his own, and y-you told me not to do that, never to do that, b-before..."

"Oh Kurt, don't be silly. You did everything you could for your father, he and I both know that. You were so brave baby, at the end. You protected your friends, even though you knew what that meant for you. I've never been more proud."

"You- you were watching?" Kurt asked, shocked. Iris pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead.

"Baby, I'm always watching," she informed her son. "Always. I've watched you hold our family together since... well, you know. I've watched you struggle, and it has hurt like you wouldn't believe, but I've also watched you come to terms with yourself and learn to love the person you have grown up to be. I always knew my boy would have his father's courage, but I never knew just how much you had. Kurt, you are the single most courageous person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm proud to be your mom."

Kurt made a face, embarrassed. He pressed his face into his mother's hair and grinned.

"I've missed you," he murmured quietly.

"I've missed you too baby," Iris sighed. "Like you wouldn't believe. But I'm always with you, always."

"I know."

Iris slipped her hand into her son's and pulled out of the embrace, leading Kurt down a neat pathway.

"I didn't believe in God," Kurt whispered to her. He felt guilty saying it, now that he was here. Dead. "But this is heaven, isn't it? I thought if it was real, my heaven would have more shopping malls."

Iris giggled, a soft silvery tinkling of wind chimes. She pulled Kurt along without answering his question, past pastel-coloured fields of lilac and buttercups. The path beneath their feet was a quaint, old-fashioned cobbled one over which they glided effortlessly. The sky overhead was the clearest shade of blue, with only the faintest trace of whispish white cloud filtering through. Kurt thought he could hear the faraway tinkling of piano keys in the distance, and possibly the chirping of exotic songbirds. He clutched excitedly onto his mother's hand as he followed in her wake, overcome by how safe it felt to be in her presence again. He had missed her, of course, but he had never really realised how much until now.

"Mom," he said, enjoying the taste of the word on his lips without its usual coating of loss. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see soon enough baby," replied Iris. She smiled once more, and the action seemed to cause her whole face to light up. It was as though she had been struck by a ray of purest golden sunlight. She was nothing less than angelic, soft and sweet-smelling and achingly familiar. Her pace quickened slightly after Kurt's enquiry and she seemed to be moving with more purpose than before. She led her son over a small humpback bridge which traversed a trickling stream and gave a contented sigh.

"We're here," she said happily. Kurt looked around expectantly for some sort of pearly gates, or perhaps a bearded man holding a parchment list. What he saw instead was rather less impressive. The only things of note in this small field were a weeping willow tree and the delicate red bench which it overhung. Slightly disappointed, he glanced questioningly at his mother. Iris smirked. "We're just waiting for someone baby."

Kurt nodded uncertainly and allowed himself to be led over to the bench. His mother perched daintily on the edge of the seat, hands clasped in her lap, and began to hum softly under her breath. Her foot jiggled in time to her soft lullaby and her signature aroma filled the air. Kurt looked at her and wanted to cry. He wanted to just curl up in her lap like he used to when he was little and had a bad nightmare. Iris would take him in her arms and cuddle him close and feed himchocolate milk through a purple straw until he stopped shaking. Then she would carry him back to his little four-poster bed with iits red velvet hangings and lie down next to him until he drifted back into dreamless slumber. Kurt had never forgotten the soft touch of her hands as she held him close to her, drumming a soothing rhythm against the pale skin of his arms. Her particular scent had enveloped him like a security blanket and Kurt remembered that he had never felt safer than in those moments, with his mother lying next to him warding off the bad dreams of a hulking five-year-old named David Karovsky holding him down in the sandpit as Noah Puckerman and some kid called Azimio laughed and Kurt cried and waited until Finn Hudson pulled him out, sobbing and choking on grains of sand.

Kurt was about to drop his head to Iris's lap when a sibilant sigh slipped through the woman's teeth. She smiled sadly and rose to her feet. Confused, Kurt followed her gaze.

A figure was crossing the humpbacked bridge, striding swiftly towards them. It was the figure of a tall man with dark hair and broad shoulders. He was dressed in an impeccably neat military uniform, a couple of gleaming medals pinned to his breast pocket, and his hair was combed in a neat side parting. Kurt was certain he had never seen the solider before- he would remember a face like that, he was sure of it- and yet there was something in familiar in his loping gait and awkward, lopsided smile. He strode across the distance between them on long legs and hugged Iris briefly before releasing her and turning to face Kurt.

"Hi there son," he said in an easy drawl. "How're you feeling?"

"Uh- I'm f-fine thank you sir," said Kurt breathlessly. "I... uh... who exactly are you?"

Verity smiled coyly and the stranger laughed a loud, booming laugh that came frm the pit of his stomach. He stuck out a hand and clenched Kurt's palm tightly in his, shaking it so fiercely that a shot of pain ran up the smaller boy's arm to his elbow. He flinched and the man smiled good-naturedly.

"Sorry son," he apologised hastily. "Chris Hudson, pleased to meet you."

Kurt gaped at him.

"Y-you mean... you're..."

"Yeah kiddo, I'm Finn's dad. How's my boy holding up?"

"He... uh, he's good, we..."

"Oh Chris, stop teasing the poor boy," Iris giggled, ruffling her son's hair affectionately. Finn's dad shrugged sheepishly and shot Kurt a goofy grin so reminiscent of his son's that Kurt's head spun.

"Sorry kid, I just love freaking the newbies out," Chris chuckled. "I've been keeping an eye on Finn, my Carole too. You and your dad seem to be good for them."

"I... thank you," said Kurt uncertainly. He looked despairingly at his mother; this situation was starting to get altogther too weird for him.

"Don't worry baby," Iris soothed. "We just need to wait a few minutes more."

"Who else is coming?" Kurt whispered softly.

As though on cue, a hum of voices began, growing progressively louder with every second they waited. Then there was a flurry of movement on the bridge. Christopher Hudson and Iris Hummel raised their hands in silent greeting to the newcomers. Kurt placed a trembling hand to his temples, feeling weak.

Walking towards him, looking sad and tired, were the lot members of New Directions. Towards the front of the group, he could see Miss Pillsbury walking next to that girl from Vocal Adrenaline, Candace-something-or-other. Behind them were Mike, Santana and Brittany. Tina wheeled Artie's chair in their wake, and bringing up the rear was the slight, poised form of Quinn Fabray.

"I- oh God," Kurt breathed, his head swimming. He staggered shakily back to sit on the bench and dropped his head into his hands. "Oh _God_, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I-"

"Kurt, don't," Miss Pillsbury said softly. She was as immaculate as ever in a fitted pastel twin-set, a string of pearls around her delicate throat. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I should have... I mean, I could have..."

"Kurt, they were too strong," Tina said, her tone sombre. She clutched Artie's hand tightly. Both of them were perfectly whole and undamaged. They looked exactly as they had in life; Tina wore her usual Goth garb, and Artie his typical chequered sweater vest and shirt. He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled sadly at his friend.

"She's right, you know," he informed him. "There was nothing you could have done."

"You were so brave," Santana piped up, and Kurt turned to stare at her. The pretty Latina girl wore her usual crisp, awe-inspiring Cheerios uniform, but her hair hung around her face, softening her sometimes hard features. She didn't roll her eyes, and her words held none of their usual biting sarcasm. Kurt was horrified to see tears welling up in her eyes. "You saved Matt and Mercedes. I could never have done that."

"You saved my best friend," added Mike. His voice was quiet, almost hoarse, and tears were slipping silently down his sallow cheeks.

"I like Matt," Brittany said dazedly. "And Mercedes is nice but when she sings sometimes she makes me cry."

"I didn't know you," Candace said. "But I still think what you did was really-"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed shakily. He sood up and glared at the little cluster of people before him. "No, just stop talking. All of you, just stop! Stop saying that I was brave, that I saved them, j-just stop! I couldn't help any of you, could I? Mike, Quinn, I was too late, you two were gone by the time I got to you, and Artie, we found you... found you... If I was any sort of person I would have finished that creep off when I had the chance! But I got myself k-killed, and he's still out there, and 'Cedes and Finn and the others are still in danger and... Just don't call me brave. I'm just a stupid little boy who got myself stabbed and left my friends to the mercy of... to the mercy of..."

"Kurt!"

A voice broke him off and suddenly his arms were full of Quinn. The blonde girl, her hair a mess of loose, gentle curls, held his face and wiped away the tears which had begun to spill over from his eyes. She sat him down firmly on the bench and wrapped her thin arms around him. Kurt struggled, but Quinn hadn't earned the position of head cheerleader for nothing and she didn't budge. Eventually, Kurt stopped thrashing and lay prone in her arms. Quinn stroked his hair gently as he gasped and tried to control his emotions.

"Listen to me Kurt- no, _listen_. You are not allowed to feel guilty because that psychopath Jacob Ben Israel decided to slaughter-"

"Jacob?"

"Yes Kurt, it was Jacob," Quinn said softly. "Jacob and Mr Schuester's wife, they're the ones doing all of this. Well Jacob, mainly, but Terri took down Miss Pillsbury and Britt, and she helped him with what he did to Santana too."

"I... but, _why_?"

"That doesn't matter now. What matters is that you did everything you could. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of your friends. No matter what you say, you saved them Kurt."

"I didn't do anything any of you wouldn't-"

"Oh for heaven's sake, stop arguing Kurt!" the blonde girl exclaimed. "Just accept that you're a hero. It takes something special to do what you did Kurt but..."

She trailed off and glanced nervously at Iris. The older woman smiled sadly and nodded. Kurt could see the lump in Quinn's throat as she swallowed.

"But you're not finished yet."

Kurt stared at her, feeling darkness tug at the edge of his vision. Quinn nodded tearfully.

"_What_?"

"I know it's hard, but you need to understand that-"

"I- I'm _dead,_" Kurt squealed hysterically. "I'm dead, that's it, job done, right Mom?"

But Iris was shaking her head and coming towards him, hands outstretched.

"Baby, you're not like us. You're not spirit, not yet. You... you're _floating_. In limbo. _Half_-dead."

"But I'm tired," Kurt whispered brokenly. "I'm tired and I'm done. Why can't I just go on, with you?"

"Kiddo, if that's what you want, none of us will try to stop you," Chris Hudson said evenly. "But frankly, your friends are in one hell of a pickle. If nobody does anything, they... well, let's just say they'll all be joining us pretty quickly too."

Kurt felt bile rise in his throat. Unwillingly, his mind was invaded with images. Finn. Mercedes. Heck, even Rachel. Matt, Puck, Mr Schue, Ms Corcoran... they would all die. All of them. And then what woud happen? How would Carole and his dad cope? And Rachel's two gay dads, who had given up so much for her? Rachel, who would never win her Tony, never sing on Boradway. Finn, who would never play football again. Mercedes, who would never have a proper boyfriend, and Matt who would never learn to be himself. Mr Schue would never see his glee club, his pride and joy, succeed, Ms Corcoran would never get to raise her daughter and Puck would be remembered as a Lima Loser. None of them would ever fulfill their dreams, none of their families would see their children grow up.

Kurt turned to smile at his mother, tears blurring his vision.

"A-alright," he whispered shakily. "I'll do it."

Iris beamed at him and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Chris nodded sharply and the others clapped their hands in soft appreciation, as though he had just hit the high F in _Defying Gravity_. Kurt got to his feet once more and smiled at them all.

"That's my boy," Iris murmured to him.

"Good luck Kurt," Mike called, his sentiments echoed by the others as they rushed forward to engulf him in embraces and hugs and kisses.

"Tell Puck I'm sorry I took Beth away from him," Quinn whispered in his ear, the last to reach him. Kurt nodded as he pulled away. The rest of them stayed clustered together and he was left standing on his own, feeling slightly foolish. Then a thought struck him.

"How- how do I get back?" he asked. "To... to Earth, or whatever it is?"

The others smiled, and he thought he saw a flash of Santana's patented eye-roll before Brittany rushed forward and took his hand, dressed like Santana in her Cheerios uniform and clutching a tiny teddy bear.

"I thought I was the dumb one," she told him seriously. Then her pretty features split into a smile and she stroked the skin of his palm, probably still revelling in the soft, baby-like texture of his skin. "Maybe you should try waking up."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Kurt opened his eyes groggily, and pain immediately exploded in his abdomen. He could see dirt and leaves all around him, and a winding trail of dark red blood. For a moment, he was confused. Then realisation hit.

"Finn," he whispered wildly. "Finn... 'Cedes..."

He sat bolt upright, clutching at the bloodstain spreading across his stomach. Face contorted with pain, he dragged himself towards Shelby Corcoran's car and popped the trunk. He hauled himself to his feet, still wincing, and began to sift through the mess of baby toys and CD cases with increasing desperation. Finally, he found one of the woman's spare blouses. His hands were trembling, but he managed to rip a wide strip of fabric from the shirt and tie it tight around himself, compressiong the wound. Then he reached further into the trunk until he found Shelby's roadside emergency kit. Being the son of one of the most popular mechanics in Lima, it seemed, had its uses after all.

After sifting through blankets and tangles of jump cables, he finally found a heavy steel wrench. A cruel smile crossed his face as he held it up victoriously.

"This will do nicely," he muttered to himself through clenched teeth. He braced himself and began to stagger back up towards the cabin. His stomach felt like it was on fire, but all he could think of was the fact that his friends were still in danger.

He hoped he would meet Terri Schuester on his way. Making her pay was the least he could do for Britt and Santana and Miss Pillsbury. And Jacob... well, he had a lot to answer for.

Not least getting bloodstains on Kurt's clothes.

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**I'm sorry I made you all think Kurt was dead, but I hope you liked this chapter. Please drop me a line to tell me what you thought!**


	16. Waiting for the End of the World

**A/N: Alright, kill me now. I am a terrible author. I honestly don't know what happened, but my Glee creativity just evaded me... Luckily, it's back! And I think we have the recent spate of sublime episodes to thank for that. **_**Never Been Kissed**_** was just... wow. I mean, naturally all of us Starkid fans were over the moon with Darren Criss's brilliance but for me Max Adler was the real surprise package. I say again, wow. Anyone agree with me?**

**Thanks as always to my wonderful reviewers. Since the last update, these include: seducedlikemagic, GGSVHM, islay12, Bella1992, ducksgomoo, TheUltimateGleek123, juleszapineapple, twilightersk8r, Lucy-Gleek, Swing Girl at Heart, Kkaty (twice), MmmStrawberryLips, LiveLoveLaughLife (twice), ghostsinthemoonlight, lynxpanther, michela111937, SawyersNumberOneFan, scarygoat, JAMES-EAI, spashley20, TheMiniMenzel, Cheerful killer (twice, I think...) and KairiNamineStar. Oh, and anybody else I may have left out... I'm really grateful, keep up the good work!**

**In other news, the chapter title is based on Elvis Costello's **_**Waiting for the End of the World.**_

**DISCLAIMER: Alright, alright. I don't own Glee. Happy now?**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Will stared in horror as his ex-wife strode towards him. Terri was smiling, but he could see the malice in her eyes. The heavy handgun winked wickedly in the light from overhead. The woman was dressed in tight blue jeans, an aviator jacket and chocolate brown leather boots with killer heels. An oversized pair of sunglasses nestled in her immaculate honey-blonde locks, and her wedding ring still sat on her finger.

"T-terri," he stammered, and he wished he didn't sound so terrified. "What're you-"

"What am I doing here? What am I trying to achieve?" asked Terri, her voice slicing through the air like a knife. She shrugged. "I'm just getting my revenge. I _told _you I didn't want to let you go. I loved you Will, and I thought you loved me, but you were so busy chasing that ginger bushbaby and making out with _her-_" she jerked a thumb in the direction of the trembling Shelby- "on _my_ sofa, the one _I _picked out in IKEA, to even _think_ about me. How do you think that made me feel, huh Will? How do you think it felt to realise that the man I'd loved since high school had just forgotten about me?"

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Terri cut him off.

"It _hurt_, Will," she seethed, unscrewing the cap on the can of petrol. She began to move slowly around the room, spilling the liquid all over the floor and the furniture. "It hurt. I've lost count of how long I spent curled up in the spare bedroom at Kendra's place, wallowing. I tried to make it go away, but none of those guys I met in those hideous backwater bars were you Will. Eventually, the hurt did start to go away. But it was replaced by anger. I was _so mad_ Will, even madder than that time you spilled red wine on those new sheets I bought in Pottery Barn, and you know I had sleepless nights for a week after that. I wanted to make you pay Will... and then I met Jacob. And the rest, as they say, is history."

Terri gave another one of those nonchalant shoulder-shrugs and cocked the pistol, aiming it right between Shelby's eyes. Rachel whimpered and Jacob flinched.

"Terri," he said quietly. "Terri, Rachel would prefer if you didn't-"

"Do you honestly think I care what the singing midget _prefers_?" Terri snarled. "A deal's a deal Jew-fro. Now either slit her throat, or I'll shoot her. You decide."

Tears were dancing in both Rachel and Shelby's eyes. Both Finn and Puck were struggling to hold themselves back, but Terri was holding a hand up, daring them to take even a single step. Finn was chewing furiously on his lip as he tried desperately not to run to Rachel and hold her close, and Puck's face scrunched up as he attempted not to attack. Mercedes and Matt clutched at each other fearfully, and the coffee-skinned diva let out a tiny whimper. Will gulped and then took a step forward.

"Terri," he said slowly, his hands raised. "You don't have to do this. It wasn't Shelby's fault, or Emma's. I'm the one who came onto them. If you want to kill anyone, it should be me."

Terri spared him a pitying glance before her pretty features morphed into a snarl once more. "Aren't you _chivalrous_?" she taunted her former husband. "Don't worry Will, you'll have your turn too. But I want you to suffer, like I did. I want you to watch them all die, one by one."

"Terri please," pleaded Will. He looked hopelessly at the trembling teenagers all around him. "They're just kids, you can't-"

"We can, and we will," Jacob interrupted, as though Will's glance at the others had brought his intentions back to him once more. "I'm sorry Rachel, but we had a deal."

And with that, he shoved Shelby away from him and nodded once to Terri. The tall, slender blonde allowed an insane smile to spread across her face and raised the gun once more. The group held its collective breath, and then-

"NO!"

Rachel's shriek was heartbreaking. She attempted to run towards her mother, but Jacob held her back. Matt swore. Puck retched. Finn and Mercedes merely stared. Will looked at Terri in disbelief.

And Shelby...

Shelby fell to the ground in slow-motion. Ever the performer, she toppled with grace and poise. But her face... Her face was twisted with agony and what seemed like surprise. She crashed to the petrol-soaked ground, clutching at her heart. Her eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets and she whimpered.

"Mommy," Rachel murmured, swaying in Jacob's clutches.

"Ra-chel..." Her voice was a death rattle. "'M... sorry..."

Shelby's hand clattered to the floor and she closed her eyes, a peaceful expression on her face. It was over. She was gone.

"No..." Rachel moaned. "No... no... NO!"

She thrashed wildly, biting and kicking every inch of Jacob that she could reach. Her expression was wild with grief and she spat furiously in his face.

"You bastard!" she screamed. "You... you..."

Terri surveyed the scene with grim satisfaction. She strode over to the crumpled figure on the ground and prodded at Shelby's body with the tip of one of her boots. She bent low and pulled the woman's gold charm bracelet from her wrist. As she straightened up, she pocketed it and grinned at Will. The curly-haired Spanish teacher stared at her, disgust and disbelief plain to see on his features.

"I told you so Will," Terri said in a sing-song voice. "Does it hurt yet?"

Will clenched his jaw, unwilling to give her the satisfaction she craved.

"No? How about now?"

With a noise like a whip-crack, she sank a bullet into Puck's kneecap. The football player roared with pain and Finn had to grab onto his shirt to keep him upright. Fury in his eyes, Puck stumbled towards Terri with a roar like a bull, but she dodged easily out of his way and took a pot-shot at Mercedes. Matt threw himself in front of the girl and grimaced as the bullet hit his shoulder.

"How about now, Will?" Terri cackled. The madness in her eyes was glaringly obvious as she danced about the room, splashing more petrol here and there.

"Terri, please-"

"Come on Jacob!" Terri shrieked. "Do what you came here to do. Come on!"

And Jacob appeared genuinely fearful of her. He pushed a still-screaming Rachel away from him and both Finn and Puck engulfed the small girl as the afro-haired geek rushed towards them, his knife held high. Its blade flashed through the air and then Mercedes crumpled, a long, dark cut running the length of her face. Matt bellowed and threw himself at Jacob furiously, blood still pouring freely from his shoulder. As the chaos erupted, Terri clapped her hands in delight.

"How about now Will?" she chanted, over and over. "How about now?"

"Terri, just stop this!" Will shouted after an agonising eternity. "Just stop it. You and Jacob have done enough damage here. Let the kids go."

"And let them rat me out to the cops? I don't think so."

"Please," Finn begged, his arms looped protectively around a still-sobbing Rachel. "We won't say anything, I promise."

"How stupid do you think we are Finn?" Jacob panted, rolling away from Matt. The football player was covered in small, shallow cuts but none seemed to have inflicted any serious injuries. "This can only end one way."

Mercedes, still bleeding heavily, pulled Matt away from the psychopathic teenager's reach. Jacob didn't even seem to notice. He just smiled and extended a hand towards Rachel.

"Come on my angel, let's get out of here before this ends."

"No, I-"

THUMP.

Puck, tears sliding down his hardened features, had rushed Jacob and caught him unawares. He drove the smaller boy into the wall with savage pleasure and, as he did so, Mercedes rushed forward and wrestled the gun from Terri's grasp. The weapon skittered to the ground a couple of feet away and Will stepped forward.

"It's over Terri," he said, his voice soft and almost pitying. "Give it up now and I can help you. We'll get you the help you need, I promise."

But Terri, standing there defenceless and outnumbered, did not cry or nod like the mentally unstable killers on procedural crime dramas. Instead, she rolled her eyes and reached into her back pocket.

"But Will," she said coldly. "Aren't you always telling these brats not to give up?"

And before anybody could stop her, she struck a match against the box in her hand and hurled it to the ground.

For one heart-stopping moment, nobody moved. They all just stared, transfixed, and for a split second it seemed that Terri and Jacob's plan had not come to fruition. Nothing happened, and then everything happened at once.

Flames sprung up from the petrol-soaked floorboards, licking at every available surface. They spread rapidly across the room; Terri had done her job well. There was a wild scrambling to escape from the burning fire. Rachel screamed, but Jacob picked her up as easily as a rag doll and dragged her from the burning kitchen unit. Matt was tugging at Mercedes, but the voluptuous teen was paralysed with fear, transfixed by the flickering flames.

"'Cedes," Matt urged as he dragged on her sleeve. "'Cedes, come on! We have to go!"

He pulled at her, but it was too late. The fire had reached a cabinet full of glasses to their left, and it exploded. Shards of red-hot glass hurtled in every direction and both Matt and Mercedes screamed as their faces were peppered with the needle-like splinters. They held their hands up to protect themselves, but the flames continued to attack ruthlessly. Soon both were on fire, batting at each other in terror.

Finn was trapped in the corner, a wall of flames blocking his escape route. The gangly teen coughed and wheezed as smoke shrouded him. His eyes rolled back in his head as he attempted to cover his nose and mouth with his t-shirt. Will attempted to beat back the flames to reach his protégée but his endeavours were in vain.

"Stay calm Finn," he hollered above the roar of the flames. "We're going to get you out buddy, just hold tight!"

But Finn was shaking his head vehemently, his eyes wide. "N-no... Go... Ra-rachel..."

"Finn, buddy-"

"Please Mr Schue!"

Will looked torn, but Finn's expression dared him to argue. He was about to turn when there was a commotion by the door.

Puck, his face drained completely of colour, had made a dive across the floor for the abandoned gun. For one wonderful, victorious moment his fingers grasped it. But then Terri gave an irritated scream and stamped down hard on the football player's clenched fist. Puck's voice split the tense, smoky air in a bloodcurdling scream.

And that was the scariest part. Not the fact that they were in the middle of a burning building, through which a blaze was spreading rapidly. Not the fact that Mercedes was dripping blood from her face. Not the fact that Rachel was out there in the dark, alone with a psychotically obsessed stalker, or that another similarly deranged killer was surveying them with undisguised delight.

No, the scariest thing was that Noah Puckerman was screaming. Puck was supposed to be the tough one, the one who shot life the finger even when it had kicked him in the crotch and beat him unconscious. He was the strong one, the defiant, angry son-of-a-bitch who ruled McKinley High with a power built on fear, a mohawk and nunchucks. He was supposed to be the one they could all rely on to fight to the bitter end.

But he was lying in a defeated heap on the floor, sobbing and screaming to high heaven.

And that was seriously scary.

"Puck!" Matt called from where he was still beating flames from Mercedes' arms. "Puck, dude, are you-"

His concerned enquiry was cut off as the wooden beams overhead gave an ominous creak. Matt swallowed and dared to glance upwards. Sure enough, the flames had reached the ceiling and were licking at the beams holding the roof in place. The ancient wood was putting up a good fight, but it was obvious that it couldn't hold up much longer. Matt stopped trying to beat down the flames and jostled Mercedes roughly towards the exit.

"Get out!" he screamed above the roar of the flames and Terri's delighted whooping. "Get out, the roof is going to collapse!"

And suddenly, Terri stopped her celebrations. The woman stared at the ceiling in fear, her eyes huge and globe-like. She seemed unable to move.

"Terri, come on," Will urged, hurtling into her. "Terri, get out!"

"Screw that, let her die," Matt tossed over his shoulder, but Mercedes shook her head, her voice finally recovered.

"No, she's not right in the head. She needs help, she doesn't deserve to die..."

Puck was dragging himself across the floor, but not towards the exit.

"Puck, come on buddy, we have to go!" called Will, tugging Terri's arm as the former couple followed Matt and Mercedes, trying to make their way through the smoke towards the door. He was coughing harshly and darkness blurred the edge of his vision. Terri was a dead weight against his shoulder, and he could see that Matt was having similar problems with Mercedes. He tried to turn, to grab onto Puck, but the teenager swatted his hand away.

"You go," he said through gritted teeth. Grimy tear tracks were visible on his cheeks and he was losing a lot of blood from both his knee and his hand, where Terri had stamped on it. He had his t-shirt, grimy and blood-stained, pulled up over his nose and mouth and his words were barely audible above the din.

"Puck-"

"I said, go!" he screamed. "I have to... I have to get Finn!"

With a sickening crack of bone, he hauled himself to his feet and limped through the smoke towards the sound of Finn's feeble breathing. The others stared, dumbfounded, but knew that arguing any further would be futile. Will shot Puck one last, agonised glance and the teen howled.

"Shit, what is wrong with you? Get the _fuck_ out of here and help Berry, we'll be fine- just _GO_!"

But this last was barely out of his mouth when the roof beams overhead gave a loud, echoing groan. They sounded tired, like an old man heaving out his last breath on his deathbed. And essentially, that was what happening.

They gave one last creaking scream and then, all at once, they splintered.

It was too fast for anyone to do anything but scream.

The beams rushed to the burning floor like fiery spears thrown from the chariot of an ancient god. There was a deafening crash as they made contact.

A deafening crash.

A heart-stopping scream.

Chilling silence.

Nothing.

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**OK, so it's a major cliffie. But really, at this point in the story, what did you expect? And Kurt fans, never fear... our boy will be making his (re)appearance next chapter!**

**As always, reviews are more than appreciated. They make my day... (hint, hint!)**


	17. Until the End of the World

**A/N: Alright everybody, I should really be studying for my end-of-semester exams right now, but this story has a hold on me that I just can't seem to shrug off. Every time I try to put it to the back of my mind, Terri and Jacob come bobbing to the surface in one helluva creepy way (that's hat sleep deprivation and the flu will do to you, I guess…) and they just won't go away. So I figured I should satisfy them and get another chapter done. This will be the last, apart from the epilogue.**

**As always, much love to those of you who alerted/favourited this story since my last update and, above all, to my lovely reviewers: SawyersNumberOneFan, Kkaty, seducedlikemagic, islay12, Swing Girl At Heart, , yowzers, lynxpanther, Pomme d'Amur, Katie, VoiceInMyHead, Tayler, TheUltimateGleek123 and ChocoxChipxMint. I never thought so many people would enjoy this story, but I guess 195 reviews proves me wrong…**

**Chapter title is **_**Until the End of the World**_** by U2.**

**DISCLAIMER: OK, OK, I think we've all established by now that I am not Ryan Murphy. Glee- though it pains me to say it- is not mine.**

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

Rachel's scream was smothered by the sound of the explosion.

"NO!" she shrieked, biting and scraping at Jacob's arms, imprisoning her in his embrace. "FINN!"

The building had exploded in a sudden burst of flame and both Jacob and Rachel had heard the deafening commotion as the roof collapsed. Rachel fought furiously against her captor, but all her efforts were in vain.

"My sweet," Jacob crooned. "This is a good thing, don't you see? Now we can be together, forever."

But Rachel was done playing the part of the simpering damsel in distress. She twisted to face Jacob, snaking her arms around his neck. The afro-haired boy's eyes widened with undisguised excitement as she leaned her head close to his.

"Rachel…" he breathed.

The small girl smiled coyly. She leaned in as though to kiss him and then, eyes closed and bracing herself, she head-butted him hard. Jacob swore and his grip slackened for a moment. It was all Rachel needed. She wrenched herself from Jacob's arms and took off towards the burning building, tears almost blinding her as she ran. For a moment, she thought everything would be OK- she was free, she could get there, everyone could get out- but then Jacob gave a huge roar and had grabbed her around the middle.

He threw her roughly to the ground and stood over her, a rueful smile on his face. He clutched his knife menacingly in his hand, still red with a congealing mixture of Matt and Mercedes' blood. Rachel gave a soft whimper and Jacob's expression contorted to one of rage.

"You lied to me Rachel," he hissed, kneeling so that he was crushing her hips beneath his considerable weight. "You _lied_. I thought you really loved me."

"H-how could I?" Rachel countered, her voice shaking almost undetectably. "How could I love someone like you, Jacob? Someone who was willing to kill innocent people to get what he wanted… You're nothing but a spoilt child."

"They hurt you, they-"

"Were my friends," Rachel finished coldly, glaring up at Jacob. "The only friends I've ever had, and you killed them because in some ridiculous fantasy you concocted, you thought it would make me love you."

For a moment, she thought she saw regret in Jacob's eyes. But then the boy leered and leaned in close to her. His breath was rancid as he pressed his mouth to her neck and allowed his lips to slide downwards.

"It doesn't matter if you love me," he sneered, scrabbling eagerly for the first button on her blouse. "What matters is that you're mine now."

Rachel kicked at him, but Jacob held firm. The diminutive diva closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable grisly end. She could feel Jacob's hands on her, his rotten breath making her skin crawl and then, as though from nowhere, a voice-

"Nobody gets to give Rachel Berry a hard time apart from her fellow Glee club members. And possibly the fashion police."

There was a sickening thud and suddenly Jacob was a dead weight on top of her.

Rachel opened her eyes, almost fearfully, as somebody pulled him away.

"I think that should do the trick," Kurt said calmly, surveying his work with a grim pleasure.

"Kurt!"

Before the boy even knew what was happening, Rachel had thrown herself, sobbing heartily, into his arms. Kurt stood in stunned amazement as his former rival howled into his shoulder.

"Kurt… I… but you… How?"

"No time to explain Barbra Streisand," he replied, again in that uncannily calm tone. "I believe we have lives to save."

And with that, he took off, limping slightly and clutching at his abdomen, in the direction of the inferno. The building crackled menacingly as the flames licked at the grass outside and smoke billowed skyward, dark and gloomy.

"Finn," Rachel whispered brokenly, and a couple of feet in front of her Kurt echoed the word. He edged towards the blaze, shielding his nose and mouth with the collar of his shirt, and began to debate the merits and disadvantages of the various possible entry points.

"Kurt, you can't-" Rachel started to say behind him, with a hint of her old obnoxiousness. However, she was cut off when a pair of figures emerged from the wreckage, coughing and wheezing.

"'Cedes!" Kurt exclaimed breathlessly. He hurtled towards his best friend, who was being supported by a visibly shaken Matt Rutherford. The football player was gaunt beneath his dark colouring and blood was seeping through the shoulder of his striped polo shirt. He looked dizzy and one side of his body was blistering up before Kurt and Rachel's eyes. Rachel hurried to help him lower Mercedes to the ground and then Matt collapsed in a heap beside her, exhausted.

Both had passed out, but whether this was from shock or injury neither Rachel nor Kurt could tell.

"'Cedes?" Kurt whispered wildly, looking down brokenly at his friend. The girl, like Matt, was covered in burns down one side, and the pair of them had needle-like cuts all over their faces. Mercedes bore a deep gash down her cheek and a nasty-looking bruise on her forehead.

"Is she…?"

Rachel leaned in and checked Mercedes' breathing, then did the same for Matt. She nodded shakily.

"They're breathing, but only just. I-I think they've gone into shock."

Kurt took in this information without glancing again at either of the ruined figures lying at his feet. He concentrated instead on Rachel, his last hope. Any other day, her presence would have irritated him beyond belief, as would her unfortunate clothing habits. But today was not most days.

"Rachel," he said gently. "Stay with Matt and Mercedes and try to keep them breathing. Can you do that?"

Rachel nodded.

"Where are you going?"

Kurt took a steadying breath and glanced towards the inferno.

"No!" Rachel exclaimed. "Kurt, you simply-"

"My brother's in there," the boy replied, and he did not need to say anything more. A look of understanding passed between the two, and then the moment was broken.

Kurt ran without fear into the flames.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Inside, the kitchen unit was a haze of smoke. Puck could barely see anything as he hauled himself across the floor on his hands and knees, dragging the leg Terri had punctured with a bullet to the kneecap behind him. Smoke filled his lungs and darkness pulled at the edges of his vision, but he would not be deterred. He had to get to Finn.

The thing about Puck was that, no matter how much of a douchebag he appeared to be on the outside, he was intrinsically loyal to his friends. And even though he and Finn hadn't exactly been on speaking terms since the whole 'knocking-up-Quinn' fiasco, Puck still considered the lanky quarterback to be his best friend. Hell, if he was being honest, Finn was his _only_ friend. Sure, Matt and Mike were OK, but both of them preferred the rest of the Glee kids to Puck, and Santana and Britt usually just used him when they wanted to make out with someone. Finn was the one who was always there. They had met on their first day of elementary school, when Finn was the smallest kid in the class, pre-Frankenteen growth spurt, and Dave Karofsky had stuck his head in the sandbox. Puck gave Karofsky an epic wedgie and got put in time out, but at lunchtime Finn came and gave him half of his PB&J to say thanks, which was good because Puck's mom was too busy pickling her liver to make him paper bag lunches like the other kids. Finn was there through everything, and he was the only one Puck ever let in. When his dad skipped town, it was Finn who immediately offered him the camp bed on his bedroom floor. When Puck's first real crush (Santana, actually, but before they knew she was more into Britt than penis) started making out with some older guy at Quinn's pool party and Puck got totally wasted to stop it hurting, Finn was the one who massaged his back while he vomited and walked him back to his place so his mom wouldn't find out. And when Puck got in trouble for fighting in school, Finn was always there to plead his case with Figgins or whoever else got involved.

Puck liked that. And there was no way in hell he was letting it slip away without a damn good fight.

So he inched his way across the floor, occasionally pausing to grip at the bloody pulp of his kneecap. The smoke was making it so hard to see, so instead of searching Puck just crawled blindly towards the sound of Finn's voice, which was growing steadily weaker by the minute.

"Finn," he choked out, coughing into his shirt. "Hudson, hold on OK? I'm comin'."

Behind him, he could hear crashing as the flames attacked various items of glassware and kitchen equipment. He flinched only slightly as the flames licked hungrily at his ankles, melting the soles of his sneakers so that they stuck to the floor when he tried to move. With brutish force, he tugged himself free and continued towards Finn's dark, hulking form.

The taller boy was hunched over, bent almost double as he wheezed. Flames blocked his exit, but there was a small area through which escape was possible. Finn, however, was panicking. He wheeled around wildly, eyes spinning and rolling in their sockets, and couldn't seem to stumble towards that small patch of solitude. Puck hitched his shirt up over his nose again and beat the flames back. He rose unsteadily to his feet, an agonised hiss sliding through his clenched teeth as his knee buckled beneath his weight, and staggered with clumsy intent to Finn's side.

"I've got you Hudson," he growled, his hands fisting in Finn's t-shirt to keep him upright. Somehow he managed to drag the tall teen through the small gap in the flames and the two of them collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily but somehow, miraculously, alive.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Will woke groggily. For a moment he could see nothing, but then his vision settled and pain flared in his temple. Putting a shaking hand to his head, he realised that he was bleeding. He must have bashed his head on something when the ceiling caved in.

_The ceiling..._

"Finn!" he called. "Puck, Mercedes, anyone?"

"Mr Schue, we're here! Me and Finessa, we're OK" a faint voice called above the roar of the flames, which were beginning to die down now.

"Puck?"

"No, it's Miley fucking Cyrus," the other voice called back, and Will was so relieved to hear the mohawked teen's voice that he didn't care that the boy was swearing up a storm. He heaved out a huge sigh and ran a hand through his tight curls, a grateful smile playing on his features.

"Is Finn alright?"

"Well he's kinda pale, and he's not really awake... but he's breathing, so I figure that's good. We can't get out though, so I'm gonna try to shift some of this crap and find a way through."

Will started to say that he would help, but another voice cut him off, this one smaller and more pained than Puck's exuberant cursing.

"Will..."

He followed the sound of the faint voice and felt himself sway on the spot. Terri was lying flat on her back, pinned to the ground by a splintered, charred wooden beam. Her large eyes swam with tears and she was shaking from head to foot.

"Shit," Will murmured, all thought of Puck's potty mouth gone out the window. No matter what had just happened, he had shared a life with Terri for sixteen years. He knew every detail of her appearance, he knew that the only thing that made her feel better when she was ill was a gift card for Pottery Barn, he knew that she always cried when she watched a Disney movie... She had been his wife, and before that she had been the girl he loved. And now here she was, trapped in the rubble of a ruined kitchen unit. It wasn't right. No matter what Terri had done, she didn't deserve to die like this. The woman was deranged, insane. She needed help. "Terri, it's going to be OK."

Quickly, Will rushed to her side. A sheen of sweat coated Terri's sharp brow and she was breathing in shuddering, gasping pulses. One hand was trapped beneath the beam, while the other reached longingly for Will's hand. She smiled dazedly.

"Will..."

"Terri, everything's going to be fine," Will told her, careful to keep his tone smooth and reassuring. "Somebody's bound to have seen the smoke, the emergency services will be on their way here right now. We're going to get you some help, alright?"

"They're coming?" Terri repeated faintly. She pulled Will's face close to hers and stroked his cheek. It scared Will that her touch still brought him a sense of comforting familiarity.

"Yeah Terri, they're coming."

"Well then," she said slowly, drawing herself up onto her elbow. "I guess I need to speed things up a bit."

In the blink of an eye, she had slid her supposedly trapped arm out from under the beam and slashed at Will's chest with a razor-sharp pocket knife. The teacher howled in pained anger and fell back, giving her the chance she needed to strike. In a flash, the honey-haired blonde was on top of him, her strong lean arms pinning him into submission. She straddled him and traced the slash in his shirt with her index finger.

"Always so naive Will," she sighed, almost regretfully.

"Terri please, you don't have to-"

"I should have known you wouldn't understand," she spat. "You _never_ understand Will. You didn't understand why I needed those mahogany toilet brush holders, or why I tried to buy that Fabray girl's baby, so how could I expect you to understand this?"

"Terri-"

"This is getting boring now Will," she drawled. "So I hope you'll forgive me for cutting our brief reunion short."

Will squirmed beneath her, but Terri was stronger than her somewhat scrawny physique suggested. She wielded her knife with all the precision of a surgeon and grinned wickedly before-

BANG.

Terri gave a tiny gurgling gasp and looked down at the blood seeping through her jacket with wide eyes.

"This was genuine leather," she whispered, and then she was gone.

Will flung himself away from what had once been his wife and glanced around wildly. Kurt stood a couple of feet away, his face paler even than usual and trembling violently. He looked as though he might be sick and he tossed the smoking gun away from himself with an irrepressible shudder.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Hudson," Puck grunted, jabbing furiously at Finn's prone form. "Finn, come on man, you gotta stay awake."

"'M all tired and sleepy..."

"That's the smoke inhalation dumb-ass," Puck said, but his voice held none of its usual teasing brusqueness. "Stay awake buddy, OK? Please?"

Finn coughed weakly but managed to shrug himself into a sitting position, propped up sloppily against the wall. Puck was forcing himself to move heavy pieces of wood and rubble, pausing every so often to massage his bloodied kneecap and shift his weight onto the other leg. Finn moved to help, but his head was spinning.

"Don't," Puck managed to growl out through gritted teeth. "I think you hit your head or somethin' when this place went up. You might have like a concussion or somethin', so just sit still. I can do this. I'll get you out."

"Puck..."

"Just let me do it, OK?" Puck snapped furiously. He turned to face Finn, breathing heavily. "Please? I-I've fucked things up pretty bad between us and I... just let me do it, OK? Berry'd probably castrate me if I let you play the hero and end up killing yourself."

His tone was joking, stoic, typical Puck, but Finn could see the pain in his eyes. He had spent so long being mad with Puck over what happened to Quinn, but in the back of his mind he'd always known that he regretted it the moment it had happened. Finn knew that Puck liked Quinn- he'd let it slip once when he'd had a few too many at Mike's post-game party- but he had always honoured the fact that she was Finn's girlfriend. Finn knew in his heart that Puck would never have intentionally hurt him; the thing with Quinn was spontaneous, spur of the moment, and above all a mistake. Puck was like Finn in that respect- he just didn't think. And now here he was, trying so desperately to do something heroic, to make it up to him. He knew that Puck didn't really care whether he himself made it out- Quinn was gone, and Puck had always held a torch for her, maybe even loved her- but he could see that he was determined to get him out alive. Finn coughed again and smiled dazedly.

"Dude," he said, his voice hoarse and grating from the smoke. "You know I forgive you, right? For everything?"

Puck stared at him for one long moment, and Finn noticed that his eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed. Were those _tears_? He wasn't sure if he should pat his friend on the back, or maybe give him a hug, but thankfully Puck made that decision for him. He ran his fingers through his Mohawk and sniffed audibly.

"Dude, I think Hummel's rubbing off on you. Sit still and try not to gay the place up too much while I get us out of here."

His tone was stoic and brusque again, but Finn could see the smile playing on his lips as he turned back towards the rubble.

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"I-I didn't mean to," Kurt whispered, staring in horror at Terri's limp form. "I- she was- and the gun was just lying there..."

"Kurt," said Will, clambering to his feet and hurrying to place his hands on the small boy's shoulders. "You did the right thing. You saved my life."

Kurt nodded as though trying to convince himself of the truth of these words.

"I've never hurt anyone before," he said softly. "I'm always the one on the receiving end..."

Will smiled sadly and looked Kurt up and down. The fashionista was a mess; his hair was rumpled, there was soot on his cheeks and his clothes were ruined beyond salvation. There was blood spreading across his abdomen, in spite of the crude bandage he had fashioned for himself.

"Kurt, you're hurt," he said weakly. "You need to-"

"I need to get to Finn," Kurt finished with a shake of his head. "I need to get him out, I promised- I need to, where..."

"He and Puck are trapped on the other side of the caved in beams," said Will, realising that Kurt would not be dissuaded. At once the teenager rushed towards the pile of rubble, attempting to find a way through.

"Finn?" he called desperately. "Finn are you alright?"

"We're both here Hummel," Puck called back through the thick mass of wreckage. "And Frankenteen's doin' OK."

"Oh thank God," Kurt breathed, glancing skyward with relief. "Hold tight, the emergency services are bound to be here soon."

"I'm tryin' to get some of this crap out of the way."

"No, be careful!" exclaimed Kurt. "You could cause it to cave in altogether, you'd both be buried."

"Hummel, if we wait much longer I won't be able to keep Finn awake. I think he's got a concussion or somethin', and Coach Tanaka always says you have to keep people awake when that happens, but he's fading."

For the first time, Kurt heard a note of genuine fear in Puck's voice. He exchanged glances with Will and the pair of them began to heave pieces of wood and appliances aside.

"Rachel," Kurt called into the darkness. "Rachel, Matt and Mercedes, are they...?"

There was a long pause and then Rachel's high, clear voice filtered through the debris, stuffy and adenoidal.

"They- they're OK, I think," she called back in a tired, broken voice. "They're breathing a bit better now, but these burns... I shudder to think what pain they'll be in i- when they wake up."

The unspoken _if _hung in the tense air between them.

"Come in here and help," Kurt instructed her. "Finn and Puck are stuck behind all this debris, we need as many hands as possible to get them out."

The words were barely out of his mouth when Rachel came tearing back into the building in a streak of brown hair and hideous tartan skirt. Her small face was set with determination and she set to work without a word, tugging at brick and rubble with the same passion she put into every glee club performance. It was at times like these that Kurt couldn't help but admire Rachel Berry.

"Noah," she called pompously. "Noah, you keep him awake, you hear me? And Finn, I swear, you better stay with us or I promise I will start singing Grease songs. I know you hate that musical."

"'s cause you're kinda scary when you sing it," said Finn listlessly, and Rachel gave a startled gasp of laughter.

"You're coming back to me Finn Hudson," she told him firmly. "I swear, I-"

The sound of sirens echoed in the distance.

"You hear that guys?" Will called to the two boys on the other side of the divide. "They're coming. We'll get you out real-"

_CREAK_.

Paralysed by fear, Kurt managed to shoot a glance towards the ceiling. The last remaining beam had been almost completely severed and was only barely managing to hold up its own weight. It creaked again, and Kurt knew what was going to happen a split second before it did.

"FINN!" he screamed, but it was too late.

The beam fell with a resounding crash on the other side of the rubble. There was silence. Kurt and Rachel immediately began to tear wildly at the rubble with frantic desperation. Will stood still, staring fearfully at the wall of wreckage between them and the two boys.

"Finn? Puck?"

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

"Finn," Puck said wildly as his eyes sprang open. He was pinioned beneath the heavy beam and with a thrill of agony he realised that it was poking through his side. He hissed and tried to move, but found himself unable to. "FINN!"

He twisted, craning his neck to catch sight of his best friend. What he saw made his stomach plummet.

Finn too was trapped beneath the beam, but unlike Puck his face was not contorted in pain. He wore an almost peaceful expression, and a trickle of blood was coming from the corner of his mouth.

"Finn," Puck choked out, terror gripping him in a stranglehold. The other boy made a deathly, gurgling noise.

"Puck..."

"I'm here man, OK, I'm here. Just hold tight," Puck told him in a tense voice. "You're gonna be alright, the ambulance is on the way, it's-"

But Finn was shaking his head tiredly. He looked Puck right in the eye.

"No... good..." he managed to murmur dizzily. "Tell... Rachel... you tell her..."

"Dude, no," Puck choked out, grabbing for his friend with his free hand. He grabbed at Finn's big sweaty palm, not caring about how gay it looked anymore.

"Please... tell her..."

"Dude, you don't get to chicken out on me, OK? You- you don't... you can't..."

"You... tell her..." Finn repeated firmly, and Puck found himself nodding. Tears were spilling down his cheeks again, and he didn't care who saw.

"I'll tell her man," he said, and at these words Finn's expression relaxed. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"You always were an awesome friend behind it all..."

A sob tugged itself from Puck's chest. He squeezed Finn's hand, but got no response.

He was gone.

"Finn?"

"Puck?"

Voices. Voices calling him. Calling Finn. But Finn was...

"No," he called back, the word hurting him more than that 200-pund linebacker from Carmel High in the last game of the season. "Just me. Just me now."

/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Puck's words hung in the air. Kurt, on hearing it, had simply stared for a moment before sliding down to the floor. He curled up in a ball as though he was trying to hold himself together. Silent tears slipped down his face. Will kept running his hands through his hair and asking questions that nobody had the energy to answer. Puck lay trapped on the other side of the debris, staring at Finn's body without really seeing it. He couldn't stop crying.

And Rachel...

Rachel did nothing at all. She merely stood there, staring blankly at the debris through which Puck's voice had filtered, relaying the news. She felt numb. This was some sort of nightmare, it had to be. Finn was... _Finn_. Goofy and clumsy and _constant_. He couldn't be- she couldn't even think the word. She swayed slightly on the spot, oblivious to Kurt's tears and Mr Schue's questions and Puck's whispering. All she could see was that face, that ridiculous lopsided grin, those awkwardly endearing dance moves. _Finn_.

And then, from nowhere, a laugh.

Well, more like a bitterly triumphant shriek. Rachel was shaken from her reverie and looked to the door.

"Is he dead?" Jacob asked hopefully. His hair was matted with blood and his glasses had shattered beyond repair, but he was alive. He was alive, and Finn... Finn was... "I said, is he dead? ANSWER ME!"

Nobody even had the heart to defy him. Kurt stayed curled up in his cocoon and Puck continued to whisper to himself. Rachel just stared, but Will managed a nod. Jacob's face split into a truly malevolent grin. He rubbed his hands together and turned to Rachel.

"You see Rachel," he said gleefully. "We can have our happy ending after all."

In shock, nobody could react to him. Nobody could attack him or punch him or spit in his face. It seemed that with Finn gone, they had given up the ghost.Finn was their leader, the male lead, the quarterback. He was the one who took charge when times got hard, not Mr Schue or even Rachel. Without him, all their fight seemed to have evaded them.

The sirens wailed outside. They were coming closer. Help was coming. Days too late.

"I always knew things would work out for us," Jacob continued happily. His eyes were wide with insanity. "Even with that bumbling Neanderthal always in the way, I knew."

Rachel nodded decisively and took a step towards him.

"He was always hogging your attention, stringing you along, but I knew my time would come. And now that buffoon is finally out of the way and-"

"Jacob," Rachel said, her voice betraying no hint of emotion.

"Yes?"

"You do not get to speak that way about him. Finn was brave and- and kind and... and good. He was everything you aren't and it is _your fault _that the boy I loved, the _one person_ who made me feel really special, is gone. It is your fault Jacob."

And with this last, she bent, picked up the gun which Kurt had dropped earlier and shot Jacob Ben Israel square between the eyes. Then she turned with supreme poise and went to Kurt's side, the numbness returning.

It was only when the emergency services arrived, shouting for paramedics and asking questions, that the reality of what had happened finally began to fall into place.

The numbness disappeared.

The grieving and pain began.

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

**That's it. Just the epilogue to go. I'd love to hear what people thought... Please?**


	18. Epilogue: The End Where I Begin

**A/N: OK guys, the epilogue, as promised. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has stuck with this story to the bitter end, I know it was hard going at times (killing Finn last chapter almost killed me, believe me). So seriously, thank you. I can't believe the level of response to this piece.**

**As always, thank to everyone who reviewed since the last update: little-miss-beth, VoiceInMyHead, yowzers, seducedlikemagic, Kkaty, islay12, Lucy-Gleek, Mac and SawyersNumberOneFan. Reviews are love, so thank you.**

**I know some people will have questions at the end of this, like why I killed off certain characters over others, or will just want to vent at me for killing their favourites. Feel free to do this via review or PM and I will try to get back to you.**

**The title for the epilogue comes from the Script again, this time it's **_**The End Where I Begin**_**. Pretty self-explanatory. I've also included lyrics from Faith Hill's **_**There You'll Be**_**...**

**DISCLAIMER: Not Ryan Murphy. Glee's not mine. *cries***

**/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/**

_The investigation lasted several weeks, as did the medical treatment. They barely made it out of hospital in time for the memorial service, and Kurt had to have a paramedic on standby because his body was very susceptible to infection following his third operation to attempt to repair the damage to his internal organs._

_The service was held in the grounds of William McKinley High School, where white marble monuments had been erected in memory of those who had died. Rumour had it that Sue Sylvester had given up half of her Cheerio's annual budget to have them made. There had been one moment in which some member of the school board had offered the suggestion that Jacob be remembered too. Apparently Sue had strapped said board member to a sled and pushed him from the top of the stairs._

_It was a crisp clear morning. Almost the entire population of William McKinley High had turned out to show their respects; Karofsky and Azimio were notable only by their absence. Figgins had been happy to let them attend with the rest of the football team, but Sue had put her foot down and refused point-blank. The fierce cheerleading coach now sat a couple of rows from the front with her squad, who were mourning the loss of three of their number. They all wore their immaculate Cheerios uniforms, but they had black ribbons in their hair and wore matching bands around their forearms, their expressions masks of shock and grief._

_The rest of the staff sat in front of the Cheerios, all clad in black for the occasion. Ken Tanaka wore an ill-fitting suit and sniffled noisily into a soiled handkerchief at intervals. Henri St Pierre had been released from rehab for the day; he had always nursed a soft spot for Emma. Even Figgins was treating the situation with the respect and decorum it deserved._

_The chairs had been arranged in two sections, and on the other side of the makeshift aisle the parents of the glee club sat in a cluster. The ones who had lost children were dazed and weak, while the ones whose children had survived were at a loss for words. Burt Hummel sat dumbly next to Carole, both of them crying silently. Carole had lost a son, and while Burt's boy had made it, he too felt like he had lost a son. Finn and Kurt were brothers, and that made Finn his boy too. The Cohen-Changs and the Changs sat together, both mourning noisily and heart-brokenly. Most of the parents had come to a sort of grim acceptance, but the undercurrent of raw agony still remained._

_When Will arrived, the first of the group to have been released from hospital after suffering only a minor concussion, he was acutely aware that all eyes were on him. He walked slowly up the aisle towards the rest of the staff, but found his way impeded by Sue._

_The coach was wearing a plain black tracksuit and her expression was even harder than usual. Will braced himself, expecting one of her trademark tirades, but instead Sue held out a hand and took his in hers._

"_William," she said succinctly. "I want you to know that no matter how much I abused those kids, no matter how much I professed my utter repulsion at their existence, I never wanted this to happen."_

"_Thank you, Sue. How are the Cheerios holding up?"_

_Sue shrugged. "I've trained them to deal with poisoning, limb amputation, attack by rival cheer squads, nuclear bombing, zombie epidemics... but I don't know what to tell them now. Lopez, Pierce, Q, they were some of the best cheerleaders I ever had William."_

"_And they were the girls' friends," Will finished, nodding knowingly. A look of understanding passed between the two, all enmity forgotten. It was only as Will settled himself in the seat next to Henri that he heard the familiar hiss in his ear._

"_Don't worry William, come Monday I will return to my usual fierce self. I will give your glee club a period of grace, but Monday morning I will be back to terrorising you and your hair, which incidentally today looks like a mass of cute baby piglets have had their tails dismembered and surgically attached to your head."_

_Will couldn't help but smile; some things never changed._

_Kurt arrived next, clambering down clumsily from the ambulance and then hurrying hastily away from the paramedic who had accompanied him. He stood at the back of the congregation, unable to move, as though the sight of the large crowd had brought everything back to him. He was dressed in a slate-grey three-piece suit and wore a sombre black tie and black patent dress shoes. His hair was immaculate again, but his face was paler than usual and gloomy violet shadows clotted the skin beneath his green eyes, which were devoid of life and emotion. _

_Next to arrive were Matt and Mercedes. The pair had come together, and they were hand-in-hand as they walked up to Kurt and embraced him protectively. The side of Mercedes' face was swathed in bandages, and both teens bore heavy linen wrappings down most of their sides. The skin grafts they had needed to repair their burns had been semi-successful, but both of them would bear the scars of their trauma forever. As they both held a shaking Kurt, Matt leaned across the thinner boy and kissed first the bandages covering the knife wound on Mercedes' cheek and then both corners of her lips. Mercedes smiled sadly and traced the mark where the bullet had entered Matt's shoulder. The trio then made their way to their seats at the front of the congregation, waiting._

_Rachel came next, flanked on either side by her dads, who had refused to leave her side for even a minute since they had arrived at the hospital to find her sitting in between Puck and Kurt's beds looking lost and speechless for the first time in her life. The tiny girl was dressed in a black prom-style dress and like the Cheerios she wore a ribbon in her hair. She looked like she had forgotten how to sleep and her movements held none of their former poise and grace; she was listless, devoid of any energy._

"_Come on baby," Hiram urged, but Rachel simply shook her head._

"_I can't, Daddy," she whispered. "I don't want to... to say..."_

_She ran a shaking hand through her sheet of brown hair and smoothed down the front of her dress. Hiram nodded and he and Leroy made to take their little girl's hands. Rachel, however, shook her head and pulled away from them._

"_I'd just like to stand here on my own for a little while," she murmured. Her dads nodded and pulled away. They made their way down the aisle and settled themselves next to Artie's mother and father, both of whom were sobbing silently. Rachel stood and stared up the aisle at the neat row of marble standing stones, each baring the name of one of her comrades-in-arms. Finn's stone stood in the middle of the row, almost taunting her._

_Behind her, there was a crunch of wheels on gravel. Rachel tore her eyes away from Finn's name and turned slowly._

"_Hey Berry."_

_Noah Puckerman was wheeling towards her in his brand new wheelchair. His Mohawk was gone and he wore an oversized McKinley High letterman jacket. With a jolt, Rachel realised that it was Finn's._

"_I can take it off," Puck said hastily, noticing what she was looking at. "If you prefer-"_

"_I think he'd like you to have it," Rachel smiled gently. She moved gingerly towards him, resting a hand on the arm of his chair. "Nice wheels."_

_Puck grimaced._

"_Dude, this bites. Now I know how Artie felt."_

"_The doctors wouldn't tell me, is there any chance...?"_

_Puck shook his head wearily. "Nope. This is it, this is my life now. That beam, it did somethin' to my spine, I dunno what, I wasn't really in the mood for a cosy chat with the doctor. Anyway, the result is I feel nothin' below the waist."_

"_Oh Noah, I'm sorry."_

_He shrugged good-naturedly. "Me too. But what're you gonna do? What's done is done."_

"_You're being so brave."_

"_Me?" he snorted incredulously. "I'm not the gun-toting badass. You're like Lara freakin' Croft or somethin'."_

_Rachel laughed a little in spite of herself. She stood behind Puck's chair and clasped the handles._

"_I suppose we should go sit with the others," she said quietly._

"_I suppose so."_

_Rachel pushed Puck up the narrow pathway between the seats, focusing on manoeuvring the chair without obstruction to avoid the eyes that stared at her as she passed them. The wondering, pitying, victimising eyes._

_They took their seats, Rachel making a space for the wheelchair before sliding into the chair next to it. She dropped her head into her hands and breathed slowly in and out. To her right, Matt had his arm around Mercedes and leaned his head on her shoulder. Kurt, on Mercedes' other side, was trembling from head to toe, his foot jiggling the chair up and down on the unsteady ground. Rachel had never felt more alone, but then from nowhere, Puck's hand slid tentatively onto her clenched fist and gave it a squeeze._

_On the small platform in front of the headstones, Principal Figgins had begun to speak, spouting nonsense about 'a terrible tragedy' and 'beloved members of the school community who would be sorely missed by all'. It made Rachel's blood boil, and from the way Puck's hand tightened around hers, she knew he was thinking the same thing. The glee club had always been ostracised, on the fringes of high school society. The only people they had been 'beloved' by were the rest of the glee club, Mr Schue and maybe Miss Pillsbury. This was a farce. All these hypocrites sitting here crying crocodile tears for people they had spent their time shoving into lockers and hitting with slushie facials. Principal Figgins standing on that platform bemoaning the loss of 'a delightful staff member' and 'some of the brightest lights at McKinley' when all he had ever done was try to save money by shutting them down. Bryan Ryan sitting with the rest of the school board, clapping at all the right moments and smiling sympathetically at Mr Schuester, when he had once tried to ruin the glee club in a fit of adolescent revenge. Hypocrites, every last one of them, pretending to care while the remnants of New Directions sat in shock and the parents who had lost sons and daughters tried to hold their lives together._

_The only good thing about the service was its brevity. Once it ended, Rachel could breathe a sigh of relief._

_The crowd began to move away and she turned to the rest of the group. There were only five of them left now, seven of their number as well as Miss Pillsbury stolen from them forever. _

"_I don't know about the rest of you," said Rachel quietly. "But I think we need to say goodbye. Properly."_

_Matt nodded eagerly, an action shadowed by both Mercedes and Kurt. Puck, however, was staring towards the back of the crowd with an expression caught somewhere between confusion and anger._

"_Berry..."_

_Rachel whipped around to follow his line of sight and felt her jaw drop._

_Standing at the back of the crowd, skittish and jumping every time anybody came close to him, was Jesse St James. Like Kurt, he was pale and unhealthy looking, and like Rachel his weight had plummeted. He was dressed in black for the occasion and held a wreath of white roses in his arms. Rachel could see that he was breathing rapidly, and he looked ready to faint as he scanned the crowd expectantly, a shell of his former self._

_Before anyone could do anything, Rachel had clambered past a protesting Puck and was hurtling down the aisle. _

"_Jesse?" she whispered as she came close to him. He jumped again at the sound of her voice and stared around wildly, but she took his trembling hands gently. "Hi."_

"_R-rachel?"_

"_Jesse. It's good to see you."_

"_I h-had to make sure you were OK. The doctors, they said you were, but they lie to me a lot now, t-trying to keep me calm."_

"_Jesse, about what happened to you, with Jacob-"_

_He blanched at the mention of the name and swayed on the spot. Rachel stroked his hand soothingly._

"_I don't want to talk about that. I'm just glad you're alright."_

"_Thank you," she murmured, and she hoped he realised that she meant it as a thanks for everything, for trying to protect her even in the face of torture, as well as for coming here. She could see the agony it was putting him through, and knew it must be a struggle after all he had been through. She glanced at the wreath in his trembling hands. "Is that for the rest of the club?" she whispered._

"_Yeah. F-figured I ought to show my respects. I screwed you over- and I've never regretted anything more, I mean it- but I did actually like them. Might not have shown it, but then I always had an excellent showface."_

_Rachel smiled tentatively at that and made to move back up the aisle. She turned to Jesse._

"_Come with me," she said hesitantly, and Jesse glanced backwards in unease._

"_Uh... Rachel, that's not the only reason I came here." He made a gesture with a shaking index finger and a woman Rachel recognised as his mother came forward, a small bundle of blankets in her arms. "We were at Shelby's will reading this morning. She left you some money, her lawyer will contact your dads, but the thing is... she wanted Beth to go back to her biological parents if anything happened to her."_

"_You mean...?" Jesse nodded and a beam split Rachel's face, totally at odds with the situation. She took the slumbering baby in her arms and hurried up the aisle with Jesse following nervously behind her. The expression on Puck's face as she handed his daughter back to him was heart-warming._

"_I... uh... thanks," he muttered to Jesse with a curt nod that Jesse returned. "I... Berry, can we do this? I can't stand it here much longer."_

"_Of course," Rachel replied, taking her place behind his chair once more and wheeling it into position between Finn and Quinn's stones. Jesse hung back for a moment before Matt and Mercedes rushed at him and dragged him forward to place his wreath beside Finn's memorial stone._

"_Mr Schue," Kurt called, and it was the first time he had spoken since the police had arrived at the house on Lake Witkeel. Their teacher sat in his seat, even though the rest of the staff had disappeared. "Mr Schue, would you..."_

_He trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Eyes shining, Will got slowly to his feet and joined his students. He placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder and the smaller boy seemed to draw solace from the contact. He looked expectantly at Rachel, an action echoed by the rest of the group. Rachel nodded and placed a hand on Finn's stone, tracing his name for strength._

_She glanced down the row of identical stones, both at her living friends and the names of her lost ones. Mercedes and Matt, standing alongside the names of Tina and Mike, Santana, Brittany. Kurt standing next to Mr Schuester, in between Artie and Miss Pillsbury's names. And Puck sitting next to her, holding Beth and smiling sadly down at her mother's name. She traced Finn's again._

"_I- what brought us all together was glee club," she began shakily, and she was careful to include Jesse in this, an action he seemed to appreciate. "It's only in glee that you could have had cheerleaders and jocks working alongside a sci-fi nerd and a Goth. Only in glee that a scared boy could have found the courage to be himself and only in glee could he have been accepted without skipping a beat. Only in glee that two people so different- a football player and a diva- could find each other. Only in glee that one of the sweetest, bravest boys I've ever met could fall for an admittedly high maintenance, egotistic-"_

"_Badass," Puck interjected, raising a laugh from the rest of the group. He reached out again and squeezed Rachel's hand. She blinked back her tears and smiled at him._

"_Only in glee that somebody like me could find people to care about her," she finished softly. She glanced around at the rest of the group with a little smile. "I thought that the most fitting way to- to say goodbye would be through song. It's what brought us all together, after all. You might not know it, but if you do please feel free to join in."_

"_Rachel Berry willingly givin' up a solo? Call the press," Puck muttered, but he was smiling good-naturedly. Rachel made a face at him and then moved to stand behind Finn's memorial, placing both palms on top of the smooth marble surface. She closed her eyes and drew up a mental image of the club together, singing to Mr Schue after their victory at Sectionals. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing._

"_**When I think back  
On these times  
And the dreams  
We left behind  
I'll be glad 'cause  
I was blessed to get  
To have you in my life**_"

_She broke off, suddenly overcome by emotion._

"_I'm sorry," she gasped, swiping at the tears spilling down her cheeks. She tried to recover herself and as she did so, Kurt's small voice piped up from the end of the line:_

"_**When I look back  
On these days  
I'll look and see your face  
You were right there for me"**_

_It had come to the chorus, and suddenly they were all singing, even Jesse. There was no music, but they had no need for it. They reached out and formed a chain, hands clasped in unity, as they sang in sweet, broken voices._

"_**In my dreams  
I'll always see you soar  
Above the sky  
In my heart  
There will always be a place  
For you for all my life  
I'll keep a part  
Of you with me  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be"**_

_Mercedes clasped Matt's hand with a furiously strong grip as the two of them began to sing together, their voices blending perfectly._

"_**Well you showed me  
How it feels  
To feel the sky  
Within my reach  
And I always  
Will remember all  
The strength you  
Gave to me"**_

_As they finished, Puck smiled and held out a hand to Rachel, who moved forward to sing with him. They had never sung a duet together before; it felt nice, new._

"_**Your love made me  
Make it through  
Oh, I owe so much to you  
You were right there for me"**_

_Together, the remnants of New Directions sang the chorus once more. Jesse was shaking, clearly unsure as to whether or not he should be there. Will, spying this, moved forward and nodded to the young man, taking his hand as they took their turn to sing:_

"_**'Cause I always saw in you  
My light, my strength  
And I want to thank you  
Now for all the ways  
You were right there for me  
You were right there for me  
For always"**_

_The final chorus had come and together they all stepped forward, slightly in front of the memorial stones commemorating their lost friends and companions. Puck smiled lopsidedly at Rachel as she took his hand on one side, Jesse's on the others. As one the group turned to face the stones and sang._

"_**In my dreams  
I'll always see you soar  
Above the sky  
In my heart  
There will always be a place  
For you for all my life  
I'll keep a part  
Of you with me  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be  
And everywhere I am  
There you'll be"**_

_It was true, this was not the end, Rachel thought as she pulled away to place her hand against Finn's name once more and finish the song. Finn and the others were gone, but they would never be forgotten. Their memory would live on, and it would give the survivors the strength they needed to keep going. They would be in every breath they took, every song they sang. Mike would be in every dance move they completed successfully, Brittany in every blonde moment. Every cutting response to a bully would bear Santana's fierceness and every caring piece of advice would be Miss Pillsbury's. Every time one of them decided to be themselves, regardless of how different it made them appear, Tina would be there in spirit sporting full Gothic garb. Every nerdy sci-fi reference would be Artie finally rubbing off on them. Every time one of them faced a problem so mountainous they could not imagine how they would get through it, but did, they would remember Quinn. And every lopsided smile, every clumsily sweet compliment, every naively oblivious response to a situation, would be Finn's._

_Rachel smiled tearfully and traced his name one final time. She glanced back at the rest of the group, whose expressions mirrored her own._

"_There you'll be," she whispered, bringing both the song and the trauma to a fitting close._


End file.
